


As Time Goes By

by angelofthequeers



Series: Henry Winchester Chronicles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abaddon Possessing Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Henry, BAMF John, Dean Whump, Demonic Possession, Dysfunctional Family, Episode: s08e12 As Time Goes By, Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Okay so just whump and hurt all around, Possessed Dean, Protective John Winchester, Sam Whump, Time Travel, Torture, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Henry Winchester hadn't landed in 2013? What if he'd landed 21 years earlier? What effect would that have on the timeline? Henry's about to learn that not everything is as you'd expect after jumping 34 years into the future. Will he be able to rebuild his relationship with John? And what about little Sam and Dean, his grandsons? First in the Henry Winchester Chronicles!</p><p>I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORKS ELSEWHERE. PLEASE RESPECT MY WISHES OR I WILL TAKE ACTION.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a surprise when the door flew open and a man with short, neat, dark hair and a blue suit burst out. He landed expertly and then straightened up, brushing off his suit while surveying the room. John froze and nearly dropped his gun, something that hadn’t happened in years. He knew this man! How the hell was this possible? He had disappeared over thirty years ago! Why was he falling out of John’s closet?
> 
> “Are you John Winchester?” Henry Winchester, John’s father, said to John immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Welcome! So, I recently realised just how awesome and badass Henry Winchester was and I wanted to explore the ripple effect of what could happen if he fell into an earlier year than 2013. This first fic will just be 8x12 and a bit after and then a second fic will come, which will explore the canon timeline with this ripple effect. Also, I don’t usually write such short chapters but hey, it’s a prologue. They’re meant to be short.
> 
> This is being reposted from Fanfiction. The whole story's there if you're totally impatient for my daily reposting here.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Goodnight, son.”

Henry Winchester smiled one more time at little John Winchester before closing his son’s bedroom door. Downstairs, he bade his wife farewell for the night and then set off to his initiation and the event that would change his life forever.

“Josie,” Henry smiled at Josie Sands when he was inside the Men of Letters headquarters. His dear friend’s vibrant red hair was pinned up in an elegant bun and she was wearing a beautiful grey evening gown. Henry suddenly felt underdressed in his blue suit and tan overcoat. “No one told me this initiation was a formal affair.”

“Well, someone had to class up the joint, right, Henry?” Josie laughed, standing up and stepping forward to fix up Henry’s tie and membership pin.

“Ain’t that the truth?” Henry said.

“But the hard part’s over, right?” Josie continued to fix his outfit up. “We made it.”

The door beside them opened to reveal a man wearing a hooded cape with the Men of Letters symbol sewn into it.

“Ms Sands?” David Ackers said. Henry smiled at Josie, who went to enter the room but paused and looked back at him hesitantly. He gave her another reassuring smile and she smiled back softly and entered the room, closing the door behind her. Henry took his hat and coat off, hung them up and sat down on the bench, his stomach rolling with nerves. This was it. After this night, he’d finally be a Man of Letters! And then he would be able to pass the legacy on to John when his son was old enough! The Winchesters had been Men of Letters for as long as they could remember and Henry was eagerly anticipating his opportunity to continue the legacy.

Loud screaming and banging from the next room jolted Henry out of his thoughts and he jumped up and sprinted into the room to see what was wrong. The sight that he was met with made him sick to his stomach. Two of the caped figures were lying on the floor in pools of blood – one was David Ackers and Henry couldn’t make out the second – while another man was standing in front of Josie and chanting loudly in Latin.

“Secura tibi facias libertate!” he said. Henry recognised the voice as belonging to Ted Bowen “Servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

“Henry!” Henry’s attention was drawn to the floor, where Larry Ganem was clutching feebly at Henry’s legs. Henry blanched when he saw that Larry’s eyes were bleeding and he knew that the poor man was now blind, a realisation that only made him feel even more nauseous.

“Do not let Abaddon get it!” Larry said desperately, pressing a small wooden box into Henry’s hands. The box had their symbol carved on it and, before Henry could wonder what was inside, his attention was drawn to Josie, who had grabbed Ted by the throat. To his horror, he realised that Josie must be possessed!

“That’s impossible!” Ted choked. “How?”

When Josie turned around and screamed and Henry caught sight of her pitch black eyes, he began to back away. She wasn’t Josie anymore! And now he had to get out of there and keep the box safe from the demon inside of her, who must be Abaddon! But how? How and when had Abaddon gotten the chance to possess Josie?

Henry couldn’t worry about that now, though. As Abaddon snapped Ted’s neck and turned to him, Henry bolted out of the room and down the hall to their laboratory, locking the door behind him. He flitted from shelf to shelf, grabbing ingredient after ingredient in a mad attempt to try and escape from Abaddon before she could find him and kill him. He couldn’t die! His family needed him!

_‘Family…’_

Henry quickly began to mix the ingredients together in a bowl, very aware of Abaddon flinging door after door open in the hallway in an attempt to find him. This spell would take him to his family. It had to. It just had to! He couldn’t leave John and Millie! But he couldn’t let the box fall into Abaddon’s hands! The elders were trusting him not to!

Finally, feeling as though he had been at his task for hours, Henry completed the mixture and snatched up a knife nearby to add the final component: his blood. Blood led to blood and he had to get this spell just right! He wouldn’t be able to tap into his soul again for a while afterwards if he did mess it up!

The ringing of Abaddon’s footsteps painstakingly loud in his ears, Henry slashed his palm to drip blood into the bowl before dipping his fingers into the mixture and drawing a symbol on a nearby door. Abaddon’s footsteps drew closer and the next door crashing in on itself was too loud for comfort.

“Kah-nee-lah poo-goh,” Henry started to chant as he kept tracing. The symbol started to glow gold and Henry felt a tug on his soul as he kept chanting. To his horror, the door to the room started to rattle and he attempted to speed up the spell before Abaddon could get him!

“Kah-nee-lah poo-goh…kah-nee-lah poo-goh…kah-nee-lah poo-goh…” he said desperately. Finally, _finally_ , he had completed the symbol! As the door to the laboratory started to crack and cave inwards, Henry feverishly shoved the door with the symbol open and fell through. There was a moment of blackness and then disorientation and bright light before Henry fell into something hard and solid – another door, he knew. The door swung out and Henry leapt out, landing neatly in a crouch. He straightened up, observing the room.

The room wasn’t much. It looked like a typical motel room: small with beds, a sofa, a television and a small kitchenette, with a door nearby that Henry presumed led to a bathroom. A man with short, dark hair and matching, scruffy stubble sat in a chair, frozen in the process of cleaning his gun, while two boys were looking around from watching the TV. If Henry got his spell right then –

“Are you John Winchester?” he said desperately to the man.

-ATGB-

John Winchester’s Saturday was a typical one: preparing to go out on a salt and burn, he was making sure that all of his weapons were in pristine condition (well, as pristine as possible) and that Dean knew to look out for Sam and what to do in emergencies. John wasn’t a man who liked surprises or unexpected events. He liked to have all the facts and know exactly what he was doing.

So when the closet door nearby started to shake and rattle, John paused and eyed it suspiciously. What the hell was going on? Was it a monster?

“Dean,” he growled quietly. Dean immediately looked away from the TV.

“Yeah, Dad?” he said.

“Get ready,” John said. “Get Sammy out of here when I say so.”

Dean nodded and Sam chose that moment to turn away from the TV and catch sight of the closet door. His round green eyes widened and he pushed himself onto his knees so that he could get a better look at it. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d found out that monsters and the supernatural existed (something that John had been furious at Dean at for letting happen) and John knew that if a monster burst out of there, his youngest son would not be prepared for it.

It was a surprise when the door flew open and a man with short, neat, dark hair and a blue suit burst out. He landed expertly and then straightened up, brushing off his suit while surveying the room. John froze and nearly dropped his gun, something that hadn’t happened in years. He knew this man! How the hell was this possible? He had disappeared over thirty years ago! Why was he falling out of John’s closet?

“Are you John Winchester?” Henry Winchester, John’s father, said to John immediately.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Run!” a wide-eyed Henry said.
> 
> But it was too late. The closet door burst open again with another flash of bright light and a redheaded woman in a pretty grey evening gown strode out.
> 
> “Henry,” she laughed amicably. John would have believed that she was just another pretty woman if: she hadn’t just walked out of his closet, her dress wasn’t covered in blood, Henry wasn’t looking at her with a terrified expression and he wasn’t such a paranoid bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

There was no response.

“Please, time is of the essence!” Henry insisted. “Are you John Winchester?”

“Who’s asking?” the man – John, Henry was absolutely certain, there was no way he couldn’t be what with the nature of the spell – growled.

“Don’t you know me?” Henry said desperately. Didn’t he make it back to his time after this? Didn’t John know him?

“Tell me who you are,” John snarled. Henry saw the gleam of silver in his hands and knew that John was either holding a silver dagger or a flask, hopefully with holy water. That was good. John knew about this stuff, then. But why was he living in a motel room with two young boys and why did he have two guns sitting nearby and another one in the doorway? That was the sort of uncivilised stuff that hunters did…

A bad feeling started to blossom in Henry’s gut.

“Are you John?” he asked again. Why didn’t John get it? He had a task of grave importance and he couldn’t let Abaddon get her hands on the box!

“Listen here, whoever you are.” John stood up and advanced on Henry and the two boys nearby ducked down into their chair, still watching the confrontation. “When I fall out of _your_ closet then _you_ can ask the questions. Got it?”

He shoved Henry into the wall, his silver knife at Henry’s throat. Henry gulped, hoping that John wouldn’t slit his throat before allowing him to explain the situation. How far into the future had he gone?

“Yes, my apologies,” Henry said quickly. “Is it absolutely necessary that you keep that thing at my throat?”

John glowered. He stepped back from Henry, grabbed the man’s arm and roughly dragged him over to the chair he had been sitting in, forcing him down onto it. Before Henry could do anything, John produced a length of rope, wrenched his hands behind his back and tied them tightly.

“Tell me exactly who you are and why you’re in my closet,” he demanded, his knife back at Henry’s throat.

“First, please tell me if you’re John or not,” Henry requested. “I promise that I will explain the whole situation afterwards.”

“Fine.” John pressed the knife deeper into Henry’s throat. “Yes. I’m John. Now, who the hell are you?”

“Henry. My name is Henry Winchester.”

-ATGB-

John didn’t know what to believe. This creature, which looked exactly like his dad and even had the same outfit he had been wearing on the night he’d disappeared, had burst out of his closet, asked multiple times if he was John and then claimed to be his missing father? John didn’t believe it. If it really was his father, he wouldn’t look exactly the same as when he had gone missing!

“Yeah, right,” John spat. “Tell me who you really are and why you’re wearing my dad’s face before I gut you!”

“Dad? What’s going on?” Dean said quietly.

“Not now, Dean!” John growled. The last thing he needed was for Dean to draw the attention of the creature calling itself Henry Winchester to him and Sam!

“Please, I assure you that I am in fact Henry Winchester!” Henry insisted. John scowled, pulled out a flask of holy water and splashed the contents into Henry’s face. He just spluttered and said, “I am not possessed, you know.”

“Maybe not,” John acknowledged, moving his knife away from Henry’s throat and down to his arm, just above the elbow. With a flick of his wrist, Henry’s jacket and shirt had been sliced open and a scarlet line appeared on his arm before blood welled up and oozed out. But he hadn’t reacted abnormally, so he wasn’t a shifter.

“I’m not a shapeshifter, either.” John’s blood boiled at Henry’s bored tone.

“So if you’re human, how the hell did you fall out of my closet over thirty years after you left me and Mom?” he spat.

“What does it sound like?” Henry said.

“Time travel!” Sam piped up.

“Shut up, Sam!” John snapped. Sam blinked and sank back down into his chair, his eyes watering. John briefly felt bad for talking to Sam like that but this wasn’t a normal situation and he wanted to keep Sam and Dean out of it! Suddenly, there was a loud rattling noise and the room began to shake.

“What is that?” John demanded. “Tell me!”

“Oh my God,” Henry whispered. He began to tug at his bindings. “Please! Release me! You have to run!”

“Why?” John said suspiciously. Despite himself, he quickly cut Henry free and the man claiming to be his missing father sprang to his feet. “What’s going on?”

“Run!” a wide-eyed Henry said.

But it was too late. The closet door burst open again with another flash of bright light and a redheaded woman in a pretty grey evening gown strode out.

“Henry,” she laughed amicably. John would have believed that she was just another pretty woman if: she hadn’t just walked out of his closet, her dress wasn’t covered in blood, Henry wasn’t looking at her with a terrified expression and he wasn’t such a paranoid bastard.

“Who is that?” John hissed to Henry.

“Silly man, you forgot to lock the door,” the woman chuckled before Henry could reply. “But then, spells never were your best subject, were they? Why don’t you be a doll and give me what I want? And then I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.”

She smiled widely at Sam and Dean, who shrunk down even further into their chair. John felt a boiling anger begin to coarse through his veins. Suspicious as he was of Henry, this woman appeared to be an enemy of his and at the moment, John was going to go with the man who hadn’t made a move against him rather than the woman who had just threatened to kill him and his sons!

“Back off, sweetheart,” John threatened. The woman just ignored him.

“You know I can’t do that,” Henry said firmly.

“Henry, you’re not a fighter,” the woman sighed. John raised his gun to shoot whatever she was but she just lifted an arm and sent him flying into the wall as though it was nothing. She then immobilised Henry with a wave of her hand. Groaning, John turned his head to see his sons hiding in their chair and he wrenched and struggled furiously to get free but to no avail.

“Stay where you are, Dean!” he ordered Dean quietly. Dean nodded and pulled Sam down, hiding him completely from view. John felt a brief surge of pride. Dean may have screwed up with the shtriga those few years ago but he would rather die than let anything happen to his little brother!

“Josie, I know you’re still in there!” Henry was saying desperately. “You must fight this!”

So it was demonic possession, was it? John hadn’t encountered too many demons in the years he’d been hunting – there were only around five possessions in a good year – but he’d come across enough to know what to do and what demonic possession did to a person. And Henry seemed to know the demon’s meat suit, judging by how he was trying to reason with her.

“I’m afraid Josie’s indisposed at the moment,” the demon said, her red-painted lips curving into a cruel smile. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

She advanced on Henry, who backed away towards the motel room door. However, before she could do anything, a shot rang out and the demon stumbled back with a surprised cry. Dean had managed to reach the shotgun by the door, with its salt-filled iron rounds, and though the two rounds Dean managed to fire into the demon’s heart barely affected her, it was enough to make her lose concentration for a moment. A moment was all John needed; he snatched up his guns, ran over to Sam’s chair to scoop up his youngest son and fled the motel room, dragging Dean along behind him. Henry followed them to the Impala parked outside, flinging himself into the front while Dean and Sam clambered into the back seat. As soon as the last door shut, John slammed on the gas and the car sped off out of the parking lot with screeching tyres.

-ATGB-

An hour later, John was still speeding down the highway while a nauseous Henry clutched his stomach and Sam and Dean huddled sleepily in the back. John had refused to pull over so that Henry could spew the contents of his stomach, not wanting to give the demon any chance of catching up, and so Henry had had to vomit into a ratty old bag of John’s as the shock of his adventure set in.

“You done?” John said when Henry had managed to stop puking for ten minutes.

“I believe so.” Henry wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “It’s just that all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

 _‘Great. A nerd,’_ John thought derisively. Out loud, he said, “Good. Mind telling me who Princess was?”

“Abaddon. She’s a demon.”

“I think we figured that out,” Dean spoke up.

“Dean,” John said sternly, though he had to fight the urge to snort. “Where’d she come from? Where’d _you_ come from? You can’t be my father. Henry Winchester ran out on me and my mom nearly thirty four years ago, never came back.”

“So it’s 1992,” Henry whispered. He shook his head. “I apologise. I’m from Normal, Illinois, 1958.” He even pulled out his licence to prove it. John blinked. How could this man have known that they used to live in Normal and when Henry disappeared?

“Absent fathers time-travelling through motel room closets,” he muttered. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Dad? Is this Grandpa?” Sam said.

“Are they yours?” Henry said. John gave a short, sharp nod and Henry turned and smiled wanly at the boys. “My name is Henry Winchester and I believe that I’m your grandfather.”

“I’m Sam and this is my big brother, Dean!” Sam said.

“Great work, Sammy,” Dean scowled. “Just tell a complete stranger who we are, why don’t you?”

“I just did,” Sam said cheekily. “Dad, I’m hungry. Can we get food?”

“We’re not stopping, Sammy,” John said sharply. “Not with that demon after us.”

“I believe we’re far enough away from Abaddon that she won’t find us if we stop for a short while,” Henry said. And by God, that was such a Henry way of talking! John felt his chest constrict in pain before fiercely clamping down on his emotions. He couldn’t appear weak! Not in front of his boys and his father! John was certain now that this was his long-lost father. There was a feeling in his gut that told him that this _was_ Henry Winchester. The question now was how had he burst out of a closet thirty four years after his disappearance and why did he have a demon bitch after him?

-ATGB-

After another hour of driving, John finally gave in to Sam’s complaints and pulled over at a small diner. While Dean took Sam to take care of business and Henry stared at old photographs he had with him, John went to order the food and returned with a tray of sandwiches, drinks and a treat each for the boys: apple pie for Dean and a fruit salad for Sam. He didn’t often treat his boys but after the events of that night, John felt that they deserved a break.

Sliding in next to Henry and watching him stare forlornly at his photographs gave John pangs of pain. At first, he hadn’t wanted kids and he’d told Mary as much, which only served to annoy her. But after his father had disappeared on him when he was four years old, John had always been terrified that he would treat any kids of his just as badly, a fear that he hadn’t been able to shake until Dean had been born. Holding baby Dean in his arms had made him resolve to try and be the best father possible and he had tried – at least, for a while. Sure, he often walked out whenever he and Mary had a particularly bad argument but he always came back – he wasn’t going to be like his father!

But then when Mary had been killed and John had slowly fallen into his obsession of tracking down her killer, he had begun to treat Dean as more of a soldier than a son. He was well aware of the burden he’d put on poor Dean in making him primary caretaker of Sam, meaning that Dean had had no parental figure of his own. John bitterly regretted the weight he’d put on Dean’s shoulders and he knew that there were plenty of opportunities for him to have left Sam and Dean with friends rather than drag them along from place to place, uprooting their lives every few weeks – hell, Bobby Singer was fast becoming a surrogate uncle to the boys in the few weeks they’d known him. But John wanted his boys to be protected and to be able to take care of themselves and if that meant that they had to endure a few hardships then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“You got pie! Thanks, Dad!” Dean’s voice snapped John out of his thoughts and John quickly snatched up a sandwich as Sam and Dean climbed onto the seats across from him and Henry and grabbed at food.

“Eat up,” he said, relieved that his voice didn’t crack. “We’re back on the road in fifteen minutes.”

Sam and Dean dug in but Henry didn’t move.

“Eat.” It came out sharper than John intended. “I’m not stopping for food again.”

Henry let out a sad sigh, put the photo on the table and hesitantly reached out for a sandwich. Despite himself, John was curious as to what Henry had been looking at and he craned his neck for a glimpse at the picture. Henry caught him staring.

“Do you want to see?” he said. Before John could say no, Henry handed him the picture: a black and white photograph of Henry kneeling next to a small boy with a baseball. John’s chest constricted painfully as he continued to stare at it. That was him with his father…just before Henry had disappeared…

This more than anything convinced John that the man sitting next to him was Henry Winchester.

“What is it?” Sam said curiously, chewing a sandwich.

“It’s your father and I, Sam,” Henry said with a small smile, studying John intently as though he was examining his son was under a microscope. “When John was a small boy…he was only four years old.”

John put the photo down, unable to look at it any longer. Dean and Sam immediately snatched it up and gazed at it with open mouths.

“How old are they?” Henry asked quietly, scrutinising his grandsons.

“Twelve and eight,” John replied, nodding at Dean and Sam as he said their respective ages. They lapsed into silence for a moment and then John tugged the photo from Dean’s grasp and handed it back to Henry. “Now, how about we figure out how to off that demonic bitch?”

“Abaddon,” Henry said. “Yes, she must be stopped.”

“How?” John retorted. “Exorcise her?”

“No,” Henry said. “Before I came here, one of the elders tried to exorcise her. He failed.” John shot him a curious look. Elders? What elders? “We have to kill her.”

“Good luck,” John muttered. “Demons can’t be killed.”

“They can,” Henry said. John felt a spark of hope start to flare in his chest. “If you have an ancient demon-killing knife of the Kurds.” There went John’s hope. “I take it from your expression that you’ve never heard of one of these.”

“Nope,” John said grouchily.

“The Colt would also be effective in stopping Abaddon – if we knew where it was.”

“The Colt?” John said dismissively. “No chance of finding it. I’ve asked around – nobody knows where it is. How do you know what that is, anyway?”

“I specialise in knowledge of the extraordinary, the supernatural – that which ordinary men have no knowledge or understanding of.”

“So you’re a hunter?” John said. Henry stared.

“A hunter?” he exclaimed. “My God, no! Hunters are brutal apes!”

“Hey!” Dean scowled. “That’s our dad you’re talkin’ about!”

“Dean,” John said warningly but he too was pissed. How dare his father criticise him after not being around for most of his life?

“I apologise,” Henry said placatingly. “I just – a hunter? John, you’re a legacy!”

“Legacy of what?” John said suspiciously.

“The Men of Letters, of course.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So hold on a moment,” John said, his voice tinged with anger. “You travelled thirty four years into the future to protect something you don’t even know about from a homicidal demon who’s out for your blood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> For the record, I don’t loathe John but he’s not one of my favourite characters either. I’m in the middle, rather than on ‘John Sucks’ or ‘John Rules’ teams. He did the best he could under the circumstances, BUT his first priority should’ve been his sons. So I tend to write him sympathetically but not simperingly.

Henry thought that he had landed in one colossal joke. Not only had he apparently been absent for his son’s life but John had grown up to be a _hunter_? Hunters were uncivilised barbarians, happier to swing around a blade or shoot blindly without asking questions! How could John be a hunter? He was a legacy of the Men of Letters!

“A hunter?” he said once this bombshell had been dropped on him. Before he could stop himself, his next words tumbled from his mouth unbidden. “My God, no! Hunters are brutal apes!”

“Hey!” little Dean Winchester said angrily. “That’s our dad you’re talkin’ about!”

Henry felt pride begin to well in him. Above all, Winchesters prided themselves on family and to see his grandson sticking up for John was heart-warming. He also felt twinges of shame and guilt at calling his son, whose face registered hurt and anger no matter how he tried to disguise this, no better than an unintelligent, uneducated barbarian.

“I apologise,” he said sincerely. “I just – a hunter? John, you’re a legacy!”

He said the last part desperately. How could John have ended up as a hunter? Shouldn’t he have been trained in the ways of the Letters? How did it get this bad?

“Legacy of what?” John said. In that moment, Henry knew that his son had absolutely no idea of his heritage

“The Men of Letters, of course,” he said. There was silence for a few moments.

“The _what_?” John said. “Men of Letters? What the hell are they?”

Henry felt like burying his face in the table in frustration and woe.

“Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

-ATGB-

A few hours later, the Winchesters finally arrived in Normal, Illinois. Henry was absolutely gobsmacked at all of the changes that the town had undergone in the last thirty four years. It was barely recognisable anymore! Where was everything that he knew? He was lost and he wasn’t even in the streets!

“This is it!” Henry pointed at a familiar street, which was covered in snow. “Stop here!”

John parked the car and the four of them got out and strode down the street, Henry leading the way. Once he reached number 242, he paused and stared. What the hell?

“What’s going on?” he said. Above the door was a dingy sign proclaiming the building to be some sort of bookshop and on the door was still the symbol of the Men of Letters but faded. What was going on?

“No…” he whispered, the full impact of his time travel hitting him in that moment. Abaddon had successfully wiped out the Men of Letters back in 1958…he was the only one left and he’d skipped thirty four years! The Men of Letters had been extinct for thirty four years!

“What’s going on, Da – Henry?” John said. Henry’s heart sank at his son’s quick correction.

“It’s just a façade,” he said quietly. “A way to trick our enemies into believing we are housed elsewhere.”

“Alright, that’s it.” John grabbed Henry and shoved him into the door. “You burst into my motel room, brought a demonic tagalong so now Sam, Dean and I are in danger, insulted me and then promised me an explanation, which I’m not getting. So talk. What the hell are the Men of Letters?”

Henry nodded and John released him. Henry heaved a deep sigh. How was he supposed to explain this?

“You’re a legacy, John,” he said quietly. “My father was a Man of Letters and taught me their ways, as did his father before him. You should have been one, John, and your sons should be Men of Letters when they grow up.”

“What are they?” John demanded. Henry could sense that his patience was wearing thin and was simply grateful that John hadn’t gutted him before now.

“We’re preceptors,” he said. “Beholders, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters – the very elite, like the Campbells. They do the rest.”

“Campbell?” John said sharply. “That was my wife’s maiden name. Mary, her name was.” Henry felt sympathy course through him. John had obviously loved his wife very much and had clearly lost her, judging by how he was raising his sons alone.

“Do you know what her parents’ names were?” he said. John nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Samuel and Deanna. They died nearly twenty years ago. They’re who we named our boys after.”

“Samuel and Deanna…” Henry murmured. “Yes, we have heard of them. The Campbells were one of the families we contacted from time to time but they were far from the most elite.”

“Mom was a hunter?” Dean said in surprise. John also looked gobsmacked at this new piece of information. Henry couldn’t blame him; it wasn’t every day you learned that your late wife had been a hunter. That meant that Sam and Dean were not only Men of Letters legacies but had a hunter heritage as well! It was as though they were destined to do great things…

“So what do you have against hunters, Grandpa?” Sam asked. Henry was stunned and touched at how quickly Sam had adjusted to this new development and how quick he was to accept him and Henry couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Because hunters are a bunch of unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don’t-bother-to-ask-questions-later barbarians,” he said. He nearly smirked at the look on John’s face, which showed that he couldn’t help but agree with this assessment.

“Sounds like Dean,” Sam snickered.

“Hey!” Dean punched Sam, who scowled and punched him back.

“Boys!” John said sharply.

“My point exactly,” Henry said smugly.

“So if you’re such a big deal then why haven’t any hunters I’ve met ever talked about you?” John said. “I know the best and none of them have heard of you.”

Henry’s face twisted.

“Abaddon,” he snarled, turning around and opening the door. He had to see what was inside! John, Sam and Dean followed him.

“What about Abaddon?” John said. “Why did she follow you? Why did she even attack you?”

 _‘The box!’_ Henry remembered. He felt around in his pocket and held up the small engraved box.

“I think for this,” he said, putting it away after John had thoroughly examined it. “I wish I knew what it was. Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.”

“So hold on a moment,” John said, his voice tinged with anger. “You travelled thirty four years into the future to protect something you don’t even know about from a homicidal demon who’s out for your blood?”

Henry just shrugged. If you put it like that then yes, it did sound ridiculous. But Henry had been given a mission from the elders and he had to carry it out! And besides, even if he had given Abaddon the box, she still would have killed him and left John and Millie alone! At least this way, Henry could still be with his son, though he felt guilty for dragging John and the boys into this sort of danger.

Once they had emerged into the room that had been the site of Abaddon’s massacre, Henry couldn’t help but stare. Gone were the fancy decorations and the large table – instead, the room was covered in dusty bookshelves and the only other person around was a man with straggly black hair, who was staring at them curiously.

“No,” Henry whispered disbelievingly. What had happened to this place? What was going on? He was so confused! “They can’t all be gone. There has to be another elder out there who can help us figure out how to stop Abaddon and what to do with the box!”

“You know what this means,” John said. Henry shot him a confused look. “Research. C’mon.”

-ATGB-

As he drove them to the local library, John couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Henry. The poor guy had just been thrust over thirty years into the future, into an alien world where everything he knew was long gone. But at the same time, he was pissed. What sort of father was he, to jump into the future willy-nilly without a care for his family in order to protect some stupid box? Especially when he didn’t even know what was inside!

“Alright, give me a name,” John said once they were inside the library and had a stack of newspapers dating back to 1958 in front of them. While he, Henry and Dean researched, Sam sat nearby with one of the few books he possessed, reading quietly. John was glad that his younger son wasn’t as much of a handful as Dean could be sometimes, though he was certain that would change later. If kids didn’t get their rebellious phases early (like Dean) then it came back with a vengeance later on and boy would that suck.

 “Um…David Ackers,” Henry said after a moment of thought. “Larry Ganem. And, uh, Ted Bowen.”

“You got that, Dean?” John said to his son.

“David Ackers, Larry Ganem, Ted Bowen,” Dean rattled off. “Got it, Dad.”

John caught sight of Henry looking at him weirdly. For some reason, this irked him.

“What?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “I just can’t for the life of me understand why you would raise your sons in such a life. Would it not be more beneficial, both for you and them, to try and give them as normal a life as possible before training them to be hunters?”

John nearly hit him. How dare Henry criticise his parenting? He certainly hadn’t been around to help his wife raise John! Millie had been all alone and even remarried, though it hadn’t been the same!

“Listen up,” he snarled. “These are my kids, so I raise them how I say I raise them. You want a say, you stick around and help raise me. I’ve been doing the best I can for the past eight years with the crappy life that I’ve been dealt, so don’t you dare criticise me! And also, if you wanted me to become a Man of Letters so bad then maybe you shouldn’t have skipped out on me!”

Dean and Sam were watching with wide eyes. John was aware that this was the most raw emotion he’d shown around them in a long time but it needed to be said! Henry couldn’t just disappear for thirty four years and then waltz back in and act like a parent as though nothing had happened!

“I am truly sorry, John,” Henry said, looking down. “I swear that I’ll make it up to you if it’s the last thing I do. I have to. You’re right – my responsibility was to my family, not the Men of Letters. The only reason I didn’t go back – if I could have escaped Abaddon – was that I didn’t want to put you in danger. I planned on travelling to when you were a fully trained and initiated Man of Letters and enlist your aid then. Once we have finished here, I’ll collect the ingredients for the spell and go back to make things right.”

Well, that was the crappiest of all crappy excuses. But even though he was still pissed, John couldn’t help but see Henry’s perspective. If he was in possession of something that a powerful demon really wanted then John knew that he wouldn’t have gone back home and put Mary and the boys in danger. But at the same time, Henry had been a father and his duty was to his wife and son, not some glorified book club!

“No,” John said gruffly. “No more time jumping. You want to make it right, you stay here and help instead of running away from your problems again.”

And besides, even though it pained him to admit it, John really wanted his father to stick around instead of taking off again, though he’d never say this out loud. The last thing he needed was to appear weak in front of Sam and Dean! They looked up to him! And he was determined to be a better role model for them than Henry was for him – call him a hardass and a drill sergeant but John made sure that he always did the best he could in the circumstances for Sam and Dean, even if his best was totally crappy and nowhere near good enough. He knew that Sam and Dean secretly resented him a little for the crappy life he was giving them but he hoped that they also recognised that he would always be there for them. Of course he would be!

“If you wish,” Henry said. “I promise, John, I’m sorry and I will do my best to make up for it.”

“Well then, get researching,” John said, both to end the moment and quell the looks that Sam and Dean were sending him. “We can’t stick around too long or Abaddon’ll find us.”

Luckily for them, it only took ten minutes of sifting through newspapers before Dean found a match.

“August 12, 1958,” he read. “‘Tragic Fire at Gentlemen’s Club, 4 Dead’.”

John snatched the paper with a nod at Dean and scanned it.

“A tragic fire at a gentlemen’s club, 242 Gaines Street,” he said.

“That bookstore was 242 Gaines Street,” Henry said. “But that was no fire.”

“Killed were Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen and Albert Magnus,” John continued. “Mean anything to you?”

“Albert Magnus,” Henry murmured. “Yes. I know where we need to go.”

-ATGB-

John was less than thrilled at having to take Sam and Dean out to a cemetery, especially at night, but Henry had made a convincing case. With Abaddon on the loose and normal demon protections having no effect against her, it was really much safer to bring the kids to the creepy graveyard rather than leave them behind as easy pickings for the demon. Well, that was very much paraphrased but that had been the general gist of Henry’s speech.

“I don’t like it here, Dad,” Sam whispered as they trudged through the cemetery with flashlights.

“Quit being a baby, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Your brother’s right, Sam,” John said. “Better here than back with the demon.”

Sam shut up after that. John felt bad for the poor boy – not too long ago, he had still been innocent and now he was even being shoved into a case – but between him being scared or captive or dead, John was going to take scared any day.

“These were my friends, my mentors,” Henry said wistfully as they examined the headstones they’d stopped in front of. “Our last defence against the Abaddons of the world.”

“Well, they’re dead now,” Dean said bluntly.

“Dean!” John swatted the back of Dean’s head.

“What?” Dean scowled. “Just sayin’ it as it is!”

“Here’s Albert Magnus!” Sam piped up, shining his flashlight on a headstone.

“Good work, Sam,” Henry murmured, leaning in to examine it. Sam swelled with pride and John couldn’t help but feel stabs of jealousy. Sam never acted that way around him! “Albertus Magnus, the greatest alchemist of the middle ages.”

“So why’s he here?” Dean said. “And in that newspaper article?”

“He’s not,” Henry said. “This was the alias we’d use when going incognito. I believe someone planted his name in that article…so that if a Man of Letters came looking for answers, he’d know something was amiss.”

“So someone wanted you to come here,” John said. “Why?”

“That’s the question,” Henry said.

“Hey, what’s that?” Sam pointed at the Men of Letters symbol on Albert Magnus’ grave. “That’s on your pin and the box and it was on the door!”

“That’s our crest,” Henry said. “The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power. They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself.”

“Cool!” Sam seemed to have forgotten about his fear of the cemetery. John busied himself with examining each headstone and frowned when he came to the last one.

“This one’s got a different symbol,” he said. “Larry Ganem. March 23rd, 1926, to August 12th, 1958.”

Henry crouched down in front of the headstone.

“The Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead,” he said. “This is the message. You ever exhume a body, John?”

“Dean, go get the shovels,” John ordered. Dean hastened to obey, soon returning with three shovels. John took one and Dean held one out to Henry, who looked at it as though it was a poisonous creature.

“What is this?” he said.

“Uh, a shovel.” Dean’s unspoken ‘duh’ resonated throughout the cemetery and John couldn’t help but smirk proudly.

“I know that,” Henry said. “But what am I supposed to do with it? I don’t partake in strenuous physical activities.”

“You stick with us, you play by our rules,” John said. “As of now, you’re a hunter. Grab a shovel, princess, and start digging.” He would be lying if he said that he didn’t take a small amount of pleasure from this.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, I learned things a bit differently after my life went to hell,” John said tensely. Henry sensed that their moment had passed. “And if you apologise one more time, I’ll put a bullet through you. You can apologise all you want but at the end of the day, your responsibility was to me and Mom! Not some glorified book club!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to karambura and greenblue26 for your comments :)

John honestly couldn’t believe that a man who could barely wield a shovel for long periods of time had managed to survive a homicidal demon hell-bent on killing him for this long. Hell, even Dean was digging faster than Henry and he was a kid! But, finally, they managed to dig up the bones in Larry Ganem’s grave and John frowned down at them once the coffin lid was off.

“Was Larry a World War I vet?” he said, flashbacks to his time in the Vietnam War jumping into his head unbidden.

“No,” Henry said. “And I don’t know who that is.”

Dean flattened himself on the ground to peer into the grave.

“Captain Thomas J. Carey III,” he read off the metal tag on the skeleton’s clothes. He looked up at Henry. “That mean anything to you, Gramps?”

Henry shook his head, disliking the new nickname that his grandson had given him. It sounded…insulting somehow.

“Well, someone wanted you to see this,” John said. “Maybe Larry survived the attack, took the guy’s identity and planted his bones here for you to find.”

“So, what are we waiting for?” Henry said. “Cover this up. Let’s be on our way.”

He tried to walk off but John stopped him. Rolling his eyes, Henry turned back to the grave and helped John and Dean to fill it in while Sam watched.

-ATGB-

Once they had filled in Tom’s grave, the four of them packed up their gear and then headed off out of the cemetery and back into town, pulling in to the first motel they found. John went to pay for a room with two queen beds and then once they had settled into their room he immediately left, claiming he was going to hunt down records on Tom Carey. This left Henry to look after Sam and Dean, who couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Dad hated you, you know,” Dean said suddenly. Henry blinked.

“Pardon me?” he said. Dean shrugged.

“He hated you. Always thought you ditched him. So don’t think I’m gonna get all cosy with my grandpa and eat cookies while you tell me a bedtime story. That’s not happening.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Henry said patiently, though he was unable to mask the hurt he felt. “But I will make it up to your father. I’m going to be the best grandfather I can be.”

“Well, I think you’re cool!” Sam declared. “You time-travelled to protect Dad! Time travel’s awesome! And you didn’t mean to leave Dad!”

Henry smiled at Sam, glad that one of his grandsons was on his side. Sam seemed to be a very bright and intelligent child – if John allowed him to, Henry could easily train Sam up to be a very proficient Man of Letters. He hoped that John would let him do that. Dean seemed to lean more towards the uncultured hunter life but Sam…Sam, he hoped he could train and revive the Men of Letters with!

Taking off his blue suit coat, Henry unconsciously began to whistle as he relaxed back into the sofa. He didn’t realise that he was whistling until he saw Sam and Dean staring at him.

“I know that tune!” Dean said.

“ _As Time Goes By_ , from _Casablanca_ ,” Henry said. Dean and Sam nodded.

“Dad whistles it sometimes,” Sam said. Henry felt a spark of happiness that John still clung to a happy memory from their time together and he leaned forward to share the story behind the tune with his grandsons. Just then, the doorknob twisted and John entered the room.

“Well,” he declared, “according to the records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas, and is a happy, healthy one hundred and six year old. Let’s get some shut-eye and head out first thing in the morning. Get to bed, boys.”

“Wait a minute, John,” Henry said. “I was just about to tell them the story behind _As Time Goes By_.”

John froze, staring at Henry, and then he nodded and sank onto one of the beds. Henry took this as assent to continue.

“Your father saw _Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy_ at the drive-in one night,” he began. Sam and Dean leaned forward, hooked. “It scared the beeswax out of him, so I got him a little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. Worked like a charm.” He smiled sadly at John. “I’m just glad that you kept it, John.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “Dad, it’s hard to believe that you were scared of anything!”

Henry saw a flurry of emotions pass through John’s face before he got up and sat back down next to Sam.

“Course I’m scared of things, Sammy,” he said. “Everyone’s scared of something. But you gotta be brave. You have to ignore those fears and do what’s right anyway or you can do the easy thing and curl up and cry and then get killed.”

He sent a significant look at Henry, who felt his insides soar. Had John just started to forgive him for leaving him? It hadn’t been easy, travelling through time to the future, but Henry knew that it had been the right thing to do in the fight against Abaddon and he hoped that John was beginning to see that too.

“So,” John said, effectively shattering the moment. “Tell us about Abaddon, Henry. What do you Men of Letters know about her?”

“She’s a Knight of Hell,” Henry replied. “The Knights of Hell are handpicked by Lucifer himself.”

“The Devil?” Dean blinked. Henry nodded.

“They are of the first-fallen, first-born demons,” he said. “Legend has it that the archangels had killed them all which, as we have witnessed, is not the case.”

“Archangels? Angels exist?” Sam said in wonder. Henry noticed John quickly recover from his shock out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course, Sam,” he said. “If demons and Hell exist then why not angels and Heaven?”

“Right,” John said sternly. “Bed, both of you.”

Sam and Dean clambered across the bed they were on and under the blankets. In a move that Henry was certain was uncharacteristic for his son, John pulled the blankets up over the boys and lightly brushed his fingers across their foreheads as Henry had once done to him, making them smile and snuggle deeper into the bed. John sat back down on the other bed and, out of his bag, pulled out a brown, leather-bound book.

“My journal,” he said in response to Henry’s questioning look.

“May I?” Henry held out his hand.

“No,” John replied. “No one looks in this thing. It’s my hunter’s journal. Well, it is now.”

“Men of Letters also use journals,” Henry said. “I intended to use one. I sent away for one the day before my initiation. Is that –?” He crossed over to the bed and sat down next to John. John tensed and shifted away but Henry simply opened the cover of the book and lifted a photograph of a younger John in military uniform to reveal the initials H.W. “Judging by the initials, this one, I believe.”

“Came a week after you disappeared,” John said. “I kept it and used it and when I started hunting, it became my hunter’s journal.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said sadly. “I should have been there for you. You should have been trained in the ways of the Letters.”

“Well, I learned things a bit differently after my life went to hell,” John said tensely. Henry sensed that their moment had passed. “And if you apologise one more time, I’ll put a bullet through you. You can apologise all you want but at the end of the day, your responsibility was to me and Mom! Not some glorified book club!”

Henry was truly sorry about the situation but he was also mad. Why did John get to yell at him all the time? He wasn’t perfect either!

“Well, John, maybe you should take a better look at yourself!” he retorted. John reeled back, his eyes blazing. “I’m sorry but you are being quite the hypocrite right now!”

“Please elaborate,” John hissed through clenched teeth.

“You say that my family should have been my first priority and the Men of Letters my second.” Henry was now getting fired up. “You’re mad that I put the Men of Letters before you. Take a look at yourself, son! Your first priority is hunting and Sam and Dean are your second! I may have only been here for a short while but I can tell that you place hunting over giving your children a proper, normal life! You say that I need to straighten out my priorities? Well, maybe you should do the same!”

Henry dimly registered that he and John were standing up chest-to-chest and Sam and Dean were watching from their bed. But he didn’t care. He loved his son and he was truly sorry for abandoning him but this needed to be said, since there clearly seemed to be no one else to do so! John shifted and, for a wild moment, Henry thought that his son was going to hit him. But the next moment, John turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Wow,” Dean said in awe. “I’ve never seen someone stand up to Dad like that.”

“Someone had to,” Henry said firmly. He relaxed and collapsed onto Sam and Dean’s bed, smiling softly at them. “I failed John. The least I can do now is care for you and Sam. Go to sleep, you two. I’ll watch over you.”

“Will you sing _As Time Goes By_ , Grandpa?” Sam murmured sleepily. Henry chuckled.

“My singing leaves a lot to be desired,” he said. “But I can hum it to you if you want.”

Sam nodded, so Henry began to hum the song, stroking Sam’s hair as he did so. By the end of it, Sam was snoozing but Dean was stubbornly refusing to sleep. Henry stood up and picked up John’s journal.

“Dad won’t be happy,” Dean warned, yawning.

“I don’t care,” Henry said. “He’s my son. I have a right to know.”

Henry settled down on the sofa with John’s journal and began to read. Each page he turned sent his stomach spiralling deeper and deeper and deeper. Had his son really had this hard a life? Not only had he had to grow up without his father, his mother had died ten years ago and then he’d lost his wife to a demon eight years ago, back in 1983! From there, Henry read detailed entry after entry about John’s hunter life; how he’d met a psychic who had told him about the supernatural then packed up and left his home with Sam and Dean, raising them on the road as hunters while he trained himself. Though Henry was not happy at Sam and Dean being raised into this harsh lifestyle and the weight that John constantly put on Dean’s shoulders (the shtriga entry both horrified and maddened him), he couldn’t deny that John had done the best he could after being thrust into this world and he couldn’t help but feel a small sliver of pride at how his son had coped and adapted.

By the time he had finished, Henry was reeling. He couldn’t believe that his disappearance had really helped lead to such a crappy life for John! And even though John had told him that he wasn’t to go jumping back to his own time, he had to. He couldn’t let John grow up like this!

He was going to make it right if it was the last thing he did.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No! No you don’t!” John slammed the door shut behind him, not caring that this action jolted Sam and Dean awake. “You can’t disappear for thirty four years and then just waltz back in and pretend that everything’s alright! Because it’s not, Henry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

When John came back after searching the records for Tom Carey and heard his father playing granddaddy to Sam and Dean, he didn’t know what to think. Was he trying to compensate for John’s lack of affection or something?

“Well,” John declared, opening the door and walking into the room, “according to the records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas, and is a happy, healthy one hundred and six year old.” Sam and Dean blinked but Henry just nodded. “Let’s get some shut-eye and head out first thing in the morning. Get to bed, boys.”

John was pleased when Sam and Dean immediately moved to obey him but then Henry had to intervene.

“Wait a minute, John,” he said. John began to form a snappish remark. “I was just about to tell them the story behind _As Time Goes By_.”

The retort died on John’s lips. Memories of him and Henry assaulted him from all directions and all he could do was nod and fall onto the other bed. Henry paused for a moment and then continued.

“Your father saw _Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy_ at the drive-in one night,” he began. Sam and Dean leaned forward and John felt a brief pang of jealousy. Why couldn’t his boys be like that with him? “It scared the beeswax out of him, so I got him a little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. Worked like a charm.” Henry smiled at John, who could detect the regret oozing off him. “I’m just glad that you kept it, John.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “Dad, it’s hard to believe that you were scared of anything!”

A wave of emotions surged through John: irritation, anger, sadness and, most of all, remorse. He’d spent so long presenting an ironclad façade of himself…did his boys even think of him as a person anymore? John wasn’t one for sappy, heartfelt moments – a trait he’d successfully passed on to Dean – but he knew that one was long overdue, so he stood up and sat back down next to his youngest son.

“Course I’m scared of things, Sammy,” he said. “Everyone’s scared of something. But you gotta be brave. You have to ignore those fears and do what’s right anyway or you can do the easy thing and curl up and cry and then get killed.”

And maybe that was his excuse for being such a hardass. Maybe he was scared that if he showed even one sliver of doubt or fear, the monsters would take advantage of that and finally get him and his boys. And that was something he couldn’t afford!

John looked at Henry significantly. That speech had also helped him to see that maybe he shouldn’t be too hard on his father. Sure, jumping through time and ditching him for thirty four years wouldn’t exactly win Henry a ‘Father of the Year’ award but damn, was he trying to make up for it! And as much as his constant apologising irritated the hell out of John, it also helped him to begin to empathise with Henry. It would have been all too easy to give Abaddon the box, try and escape and go back to living with his wife and son but John knew that if he was in Henry’s situation, he’d hope that he would have the guts to throw himself into a new time period on the slim chance of making it back to his sons in order to protect something against a great evil.

Alright, that was enough mushy crap.

“So,” John said. “Tell us about Abaddon, Henry. What do you Men of Letters know about her?”

What followed was an explanation of the Knights of Hell that chilled John to his core. Why the hell did it have to be the practically invincible demon that was after Henry? Why couldn’t it have been a normal demon? Of all the situations to put his boys in! John was also shocked to learn that angels existed – fat lot of good they’d done him when Mary was killed! – and then, before Sam fell into too deep a worship of angels, John decided to end the conversation by ordering Sam and Dean to bed.

To their credit, Sam and Dean immediately obeyed and John stood up to tuck them in, something he didn’t do often. A memory of Henry tucking him in swam into the forefront of John’s mind and, just like Henry used to do to him, he lightly brushed his hand across his sons’ faces. His heart soared when they smiled, making him wonder why he didn’t do that more often. Surely it couldn’t hurt to act more fatherly towards his boys every once in a while!

Once Sam and Dean were drifting off to sleep, John sat down on the other bed and pulled his journal out of his duffle bag. He didn’t know why he was doing this in front of Henry – after all, this would have been Henry’s journal before he disappeared – but he wanted to see if he had any information about the Knights of Hell and he wasn’t going to feel like an awkward teenage girl with her diary in front of his father. He began to skim but felt eyes burning into him, so he looked up to see Henry looking at him questioningly.

“My journal,” was all he said.

“May I?” Henry said, holding out his hand. Something irrational flared inside John.

“No,” he said roughly. “No one looks in this thing. It’s my hunter’s journal.” He couldn’t help adding the next jab. “Well, it is now.”

To his credit, Henry didn’t rise.

“Men of Letters also use journals,” was all he said. “I intended to use one. I sent away for one the day before my initiation. Is that –?”

Henry came over to sit down next to John. John tensed, ready to jerk away at a moment’s notice if Henry tried to read his journal, but all his father did was lift the photograph of John in military uniform aside to reveal the initials H.W.

“Judging by the initials, this one, I believe,” Henry said softly.

“Came a week after you disappeared,” John said tersely. “I kept it and used it and when I started hunting, it became my hunter’s journal.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said sadly. John nearly gave in and hugged him then and there but he was not a touchy-feely person and his father’s constant apologising was grating on him. Why keep apologising for something he couldn’t fix? “I should have been there for you. You should have been trained in the ways of the Letters.”

Irritation and anger bubbled inside of John.

“Well, I learned things a bit differently after my life went to hell,” he snapped, effectively killing the father-son moment (not that there had ever been one!). “And if you apologise one more time, I’ll put a bullet through you. You can apologise all you want but at the end of the day, your responsibility was to me and Mom! Not some glorified book club!”

John tried to keep his voice down but it wasn’t working. He was aware that Sam and Dean were only pretending to be asleep and were in fact listening in but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He sensed that he’d stepped over some sort of line when Henry stood up, looking truly angry for the first time in a long time that John could remember.

“Well, John, maybe you should take a better look at yourself!” he spat. John felt like he could shoot fire and daggers out of his eyes. “I’m sorry but you are being quite the hypocrite right now!”

Pure, raw fury coursed through John. He stood up slowly, clenching his fists in an effort not to hit Henry (though it wasn’t like the bastard didn’t deserve it!).

“Please elaborate,” was all he could force out without losing control.

“You say that my family should have been my first priority and the Men of Letters my second.” Henry was on a roll. “You’re mad that I put the Men of Letters before you. Take a look at yourself, son! Your first priority is hunting and Sam and Dean are your second! I may have only been here for a short while but I can tell that you place hunting over giving your children a proper, normal life! You say that I need to straighten out my priorities? Well, maybe you should do the same!”

Those words were like a slap to John’s face. No one had spoken to him like that in years! He was very much aware of his sons, who were no longer pretending to be asleep, and that was the only thing keeping him from punching Henry’s lights out right now. He may be a hardass towards them but one thing he would _never_ do was hit them and he wasn’t going to instil that fear into them now!

His brain switched onto autopilot and John reverted to doing what he had always done when he and Mary had gotten into particularly bad arguments: getting the hell out before he could snap and take it out on his family. He made it to the clump of trees out the back of the motel before he let out a feral yell and kicked a tree, ignoring the sharp pain that erupted in his foot, before proceeding to vent his anger on his surroundings, not caring about anyone that might encounter him.

Finally, after ten minutes of letting out his anger and rage, John felt that he was calm enough to return to the motel room and face Henry without snapping and punching him in the face. He turned and stalked back to the motel, feeling the anger leach out of him with every step. He supposed that it was to be expected; after all, he’d lived without his father for over thirty years but as far as Henry was concerned, John was still his boy and therefore it was still his job to set him straight. But John refused to admit that he needed that kick up the pants – doing so would just make him look weak and fallible in front of Sam and Dean.

When John entered the room, he froze on the spot. Why the hell was Henry reading his journal after he’d specifically told him not to?

“What the hell?” John growled. Henry jumped and put the journal down but, to his credit, he didn’t try and hide it or act guilty. “I told you to stay out of that!”

“I’m your father, John! I have a right to know about your life!” Henry said firmly.

“No! No you don’t!” John slammed the door shut behind him, not caring that this action jolted Sam and Dean awake. “You can’t disappear for thirty four years and then just waltz back in and pretend that everything’s alright! Because it’s not, Henry!”

“It wasn’t thirty four years for me, John!” Henry said. “For me, it was a moment! You cannot begin to understand how I feel just reading this journal!”

“Can’t I?” John challenged. “I’m the one who’s lived through all of it because _you_ weren’t around for me and then my wife was killed! And then you had to go and invade my privacy!”

“I’m sorry, John! I let you down! But I’ll go back and fix everything!” Henry’s eyes were feverish and – unless John was imagining it – tearing up. “Tears of a dragon, an angel feather, a pinch of the sands of time – I’ll find them and I’ll go back and I’ll give you the life you deserve! I’ll stop this demon from killing Mary! I’ll fix it all! Because I broke everything, so now I’ll fix it!”

“Who’s to say I’ll even meet Mary, huh?” John challenged. “Mom and I only moved to Lawrence because she remarried! If you go back then we won’t have to move to Lawrence! I won’t meet Mary! Sam and Dean might not even be born! Now, I might be hard on my boys and I might not always be the father that they deserve but don’t you _dare_ think that there is _anything_ I would put in front of them! _Ever_! I won’t sacrifice my sons for the slim chance that I could _maybe_ have a better life!”

“Stop it!” The two heavily breathing males were pulled out of their argument by Sam’s cry. The poor boy was huddled under the covers while Dean held him close and glared defiantly at John and Henry. “Just stop it!”

There was a dead silence. Henry and John eyed each other for a moment and then Henry sighed and his shoulders relaxed.

“I apologise, John,” he said quietly. “I was out of line. I merely forgot that to you, I’ve been gone for over thirty years and that I’m not your father anymore. But to me you’ll always be my son, adult or not, and it’s my job to look out for you. I understand if you want me to leave now and if that’s the case, I’ll be on my way.”

John just grunted, the closest he was going to come to apologising. Henry seemed to sense this because he smiled weakly.

“Brother,” was all John said. Henry frowned at him. “You stick around, you’re my long-lost half- brother from Mom’s second marriage. What am I going to say to people? ‘Hey, this is Henry Winchester. He’s my time-travelling father from thirty four years in the past. So, where’s the ghost we have to ice?’”

Dean snickered and Sam let out a weak laugh. Even Henry chuckled.

“I realise that that sounds preposterous to the ordinary man,” he said. “Fine. From now on, I will be your brother.”

Before John could do anything, Henry strode forward and embraced him. John stiffened, unused to this close physical contact, and it wasn’t until Sam gave him a look that he very carefully put his arms around Henry loosely. He broke free of the hug as quickly as possible but he couldn’t deny that it had felt…nice. Yeah, it felt nice. John had forgotten what being hugged by a father felt like – while Patrick Bryan, his long-dead stepfather, had been a suitable father substitute, John had never been able to forget about Henry and so Patrick had never truly been his father.

“Right,” he said gruffly, mask slipping back into place. “We leave for Lebanon in the morning. Get some shut-eye.”

He crossed over to the empty bed and sank down into it, sitting up only to unlace his boots for a more comfortable four to five hours of sleep. He felt the mattress next to him dip as Henry carefully climbed into bed but, refusing to feel awkward about sharing a bed with someone for the first time in years, John stretched out with his hands folded under his head.

“Goodnight, John,” Henry said.

“Night,” John grunted back. As he drifted off to sleep, the sound of Henry whistling _As Time Goes By_ quietly filled his ears. Rather than telling his father to stop, however, John simply let the whistling lull him into one of the best sleeps he’d had in eight years.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A place like that was beginning to sound very appealing to John. If he was really going to start putting Sam and Dean before hunting – and damn Henry for drilling that into his head! – then a place like that would be invaluable for keeping them safe! And his hunts would go so much easier with all of that information to help him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

The next morning, John was roused from his deep sleep by the delicious smell of frying food. Groaning and pushing himself up into a sitting position, he saw Henry standing at the stove in the small kitchenette with one of the pans that John lugged around with them (because how else was Dean supposed to cook Sam his food when John was on a hunt?). Sam and Dean were sitting at the table nearby, their faces reflecting their eager anticipation.

“Morning, John,” Henry smiled when he noticed that his son – well, his half-brother now – was awake.

“What’re you doin’?” John mumbled sleepily, swiping a hand across his eyes. Usually he never slept so deeply – if you were hunting then that could be a death sentence. But last night had been one of the best sleeps of John’s life – for the first time in a long time, he’d actually slept for more than five hours! And judging from how refreshed he felt, John was certain that he’d needed that long sleep.

“Making breakfast,” Henry replied. “I took Dean to the store and he showed me how to use one of your counterfeit credit cards – which, incidentally, I don’t approve of but I suppose that it is the only way you can survive on a hunt as you don’t have a job. This is the least I can do for you. I remember how much you used to love it when I cooked you a big breakfast.”

Yes, that did bring back fond memories. John could remember how, on special occasions, Henry would get up early and whip up a massive breakfast for him and Millie, who had always appreciated the chance to relax. These skills had been passed on to Dean, who had excelled at cooking from a young age, but the one time Sam had tried to cook had turned out simply disastrous. John wasn’t keen for a redo.

“You didn’t have to,” John said, pushing himself to his feet and crossing over to sit with Sam and Dean.

“I wanted to,” was Henry’s simple response. He tipped the contents of the pan onto a plate and then divided the food between three other plates, keeping a small amount on the original plate. It took him two trips to transport the plates to the table and John’s mouth nearly watered when he caught a whiff of the bacon, eggs, sausages and fried potatoes and tomatoes that were heaped on his plate. He hadn’t had a feast like this in ages! Sure, he always bought greasy diner food for breakfast but nothing beat a meal like this!

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Sam said, his eyes shining. Dean was already digging in.

“Thanks, Gramps,” was all he said after swallowing before taking another bite. John just nodded.

“It’s nothing,” Henry said, pleased. “Just think of it as my way of starting to make it up to you.”

“Sam, Dean, he’s not your grandfather anymore. Remember?” John said. “He’s your Uncle Henry now.”

Sam nodded but Dean just shrugged.

“Sure thing, Henry,” he said. John was about to tell Dean off but Henry cut in.

“It’s okay, John,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t expect him to immediately respect me just because I’m family. Respect must be earned.”

John knew that Henry was right and he also realised with a shock that Henry had earned just that from him last night after standing up to him. No one who knew him had had the courage to stand up to him in years and maybe that kick up the ass had been just what he needed. He also knew that Henry was right and that he needed to start putting Sam and Dean ahead of hunting. But he needed to make sure that his boys could protect themselves! What if a monster got them in revenge for his hunting, or just because it was a monster? What if the demon that had killed Mary came back for them?

“So!” Henry clapped his hands, jolting John out of his thoughts. “John, have you come up with a plan of action?”

“You’re the nerd here,” John muttered, taking a bite of bacon. “I’m just the uneducated, barbaric hunter.” However, there was no venom in his words and Henry smiled, taking the jab as the banter it was.

“I think that we should visit Larry today,” he said. “He can tell us exactly what is in the box. And as an elder, he may know a way to kill Abaddon that I don’t.”

“Who’s going to see this Larry dude?” Dean asked as he polished off the last of his food.

“We all are, Dean,” John said firmly. “Safety in numbers. We split up, Abaddon picks us off easily. You’re not staying here alone with Sam with a demon this powerful.”

Dean just shrugged and slapped Sam’s hand when his younger brother tried to steal his last bit of bacon but, with an exaggerated eye roll, ended up giving it to Sam anyway.

“Your sons seem close,” Henry observed to John quietly.

“They are,” John nodded, feeling pride begin to swell in him. “Dean would do anything to protect Sam.” It did hurt that Dean and Sam were closer than he was to them but really, it was to be expected.

“Ten minutes, boys,” he said. “Then we move out. Sam, stop annoying Dean.”

Dean shot a triumphant smirk at Sam, who scowled and finished his breakfast.

-ATGB-

About an hour later – after making a quick stop at one of John’s storage units nearby to hide the box in case Abaddon caught up with them, because going to visit Larry was really an obvious move – the Winchesters pulled up in front of a nice little house in Lebanon, Kansas, and got out of the Impala. John noticed Henry running his hand across the side of the car and couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face.

“1967 Chevy Impala,” he said to Henry, whose hand jerked slightly in surprise. “Got it back in ’73. I was gonna get some horrible beige piece of crap because Mary asked but some stranger by the name of Dean Van Halen turned up and told me this baby would still be badass when she was forty. She’s not forty yet but damn, was he right. I’m glad I didn’t get that other monstrosity.”

“And this Dean Van Halen?” Henry said.

“Never saw him again,” John shrugged. “But I’m glad he turned up when he did. It’s like I was destined to have this car.”

Henry gave him a smile and went to break up Sam and Dean’s fight over who got the last handful of potato chips in the bag their father had bought them to share. John realised that it had felt…nice to share one of his stories with his father. And in a small way, he was glad that he hadn’t had Henry – he’d never have moved to Lawrence, met Mary, bought the Impala and had Sam and Dean, though that didn’t make it okay and erase years of hurt and loneliness.

“Can I help you?” a woman with short brown hair said when she answered the door. Henry took charge.

“My name is Henry Winchester, madam, and this is my brother, John, and nephews, Sam and Dean. I have it on good information that Mr Larry Ganem lives here. We would like to speak to him if at all possible.”

The woman eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry but I’m afraid that I don’t know any Larry Ganem,” she said. “And my husband Tom isn’t accepting visitors.” She went to close the door.

“Wait!” Henry stuck his foot in the door to stop it from closing. “Please! Just tell him that Henry Winchester is here to see him. He’ll know who I am!”

“Fine.” The woman closed the door. John could hear her footsteps fading as she walked further into the house and, after a moment, she returned to open the door and favoured them with a much warmer look than before.

“Larry’s eager to see you, Henry,” she said, gesturing them inside. In the living room was an elderly man who squinted around at them as they entered but didn’t seem to actually see them. John realised that he was blind.

“Henry? Is that you?” Larry said. John glanced at Henry who, he realised, was fidgeting nervously. And for good reason – it hadn’t been that long ago since Henry saw Larry but to Larry, it would have been over thirty years.

“Yes, Larry,” Henry said quietly. “I survived.”

“Good, good.” Larry sank back into his chair in relief. “Don’t be rude, Julie – go and make some tea, won’t you?”

“Of course, Larry,” Julie nodded and disappeared to the kitchen. John took this as an invitation to nudge Henry and make him sit down in the other chair. He remained standing next to Henry, while Sam and Dean flopped down on the floor.

“Who are the others, Henry?” Larry said. Henry wet his lips.

“I – I cast the time-travelling spell,” he said. “I landed in this year. This is my grown-up son, John, and my grandsons, Sam and Dean.”

“Hi,” Sam said. Dean just waved, until John subtly nudged him, at which point he grudgingly said hello as well.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, John.” Larry held out his hand and John shook it. “I’m Larry Ganem, one of the former elders of the Men of Letters. I’m glad that you lived to carry on the legacy – I thought them all extinct after that horrible night.”

“Uh – they sort of are,” John said. “I’m a hunter.”

Larry blinked in surprise but didn’t say anything. Julie returned at that moment with three cups of tea and a small plate of cookies, which she put down in front of Sam and Dean with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Miss!” Sam said, immediately grabbing a cookie. Dean nodded, his mouth already full.

“I already told John everything I know about that night,” Henry said. “I was hoping that you might be able to fill in some gaps for us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Larry said. “Abaddon came and massacred us. I was extremely lucky to only lose my sight.”

“It’s okay, dear,” Julie said soothingly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Larry leaned over and kissed her other hand.

“But luckily, she did not get what she came for,” Larry said firmly. “You succeeded in your mission, Henry. You kept the box out of her hands.”

“So what’s in it?” John said. “Abaddon’s here on a mission. We need to know everything about it.”

Larry nodded and seemed to steel himself. John was glad that he wasn’t going to be difficult about it and insist that it was ‘Men of Letters only’ knowledge or something like most snobbish clubs did.

“In the box is the key to every object, scroll, spell, everything ever collected for thousands of years under one roof,” he said quietly. John nearly fell over in surprise and even Henry looked shocked. “It is the supernatural mother lode.”

“So Abaddon wants to obtain all of this knowledge and to do that, she needs the key,” Henry concluded.

“Can you imagine what she would do with that?” Larry chuckled.

“So how do we stop her?” John said hopefully. These Men of Letters had to have some way of stopping this bitch! His heart sank at Larry’s next words.

“You don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John demanded as Larry pulled out a notepad and pen. Larry ignored him in favour of scribbling something down.

“If you know where they key is, take it to these coordinates.” He handed the notepad to Henry. “Throw it in. Shut the door forever. And walk away.”

“Why would we do that?” Henry said, aghast. “All of that knowledge would be lost!”

“If that is the price we have to pay for keeping it away from Abaddon, then so be it,” Larry said solemnly. “It is the safest place on earth, warded against any evil ever created. It is impervious to any entry except for the key.”

A place like that was beginning to sound very appealing to John. If he was really going to start putting Sam and Dean before hunting – and damn Henry for drilling that into his head! – then a place like that would be invaluable for keeping them safe! And his hunts would go so much easier with all of that information to help him!

“You _do_ have the key, don’t you?” Larry said hesitantly.

“We do but it’s not on us,” John said. “We hid it in case Abaddon came snooping and we ran into her.”

“A wise decision,” Larry said. He fumbled for Henry’s hands and took one between both of his. “Promise me, Henry, that you will do whatever it takes to keep the key out of Abaddon’s hands, even if it comes at the cost of that knowledge.”

“I – I will,” Henry said shakily.

“And promise me that you will keep the Men of Letters alive,” Larry added. “You are the last Man of Letter remaining. It falls to you to keep them breathing.”

“I’ll try, Larry,” Henry promised, standing up.

“Thanks for your time,” John said.

-ATGB-

Abaddon watched as those accursed Winchesters left the house. It had taken her a damn long time to track them down! She’d had to kill three people just to do so! Abaddon wasn’t against killing – hell, she relished in it – but there was really no point to it if you couldn’t draw it out and enjoy it and that was time that she didn’t have.

She’d originally planned on lying in wait for them at Larry’s house inside his wife and ambushing them for the key then but then that infernal son of Henry’s had revealed that he’d hidden the key. Damn it all! It was probably warded against demons, so possessing him to find out where was out of the question since it would just alert everyone that something was up when she couldn’t get inside. She also didn’t trust him to give her the real key if she played her hand then and there and made him get it in exchange for Henry and the brats.

But…she could follow them. She could wait until they had retrieved the key and then make her move. She knew that this John guy would do anything for those brats of his, so she just had to wait until they were alone and nab them. Hell, even if John and Henry were smart enough not to leave them alone, she could still snatch them from right under their noses – none of them were protected against possession!

She supposed that Henry would do as a hostage if John had the key and vice versa but nothing screamed ‘oh crap, better do as the big bad demon says!’ better than threatening the lives of kids. And besides, Henry had been gone from John’s life for over thirty years. Abaddon didn’t know just how much tension was between them and she didn’t want to risk one of them refusing to give her the key to save the other. So the kids it was, then. She just had to wait for the right time. But hey, she was thousands of years old. She could wait. In the meantime –

“Oh, Larry! Time to play with your old friend!”


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” he gasped. He whirled around. “Sam! Dean! Answer me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

“I’m going on a food run,” John announced the next day. Henry, from where he was engaged in the TV with Sam and Dean, simply nodded. He’d seen a colour TV before but these graphics were so much better! And these TV shows were a huge improvement on those from the fifties!

“What is this?” he frowned. What was the point behind this dimwitted red cat and his psychotic and possibly possessed chihuahua friend?

“Dude, this is Ren and Stimpy!” Dean said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen them!”

“Dean, this show only came out last year,” Sam said. Dean just shrugged and returned to staring at the TV. “Did you have any cartoons that you liked, Uncle Henry?”

Henry smiled nostalgically as memories of sitting in front of the old black and white TVs as a kid flooded him.

“I was partial to Looney Tunes,” he said. “That was always my favourite cartoon.”

“Looney Tunes? No way! I love that show!” Sam’s eyes were shining. “Who’s your favourite character? I love Yosemite Sam because we’ve got the same name and he’s really funny!”

Henry smiled again, ecstatic to have finally found something that he could connect with his grandkids over.

“Bugs Bunny was always my favourite character,” he said.

“Dude, he’s so overrated!” Dean scoffed. “Everyone loves that stupid wabbit! Marvin the Martian is awesome and so’s Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner!”

“Ah, Coyote and Road Runner,” Henry chuckled. “Coyote’s ‘ingenious’ traps and plans never cease to amuse me, even now. Has he ever caught Road Runner?”

Dean grinned.

“Well, there was that one time,” he said. Henry was immediately intrigued. Coyote finally managed to catch Road Runner? That was unthinkable! “They were running through this pipe that kept getting smaller and when they got out the other side, they were tiny. So they ran back through and Road Runner got bigger but not Coyote. So Coyote grabbed his leg ‘cause Road Runner couldn’t see him.”

“And then he tried to eat Road Runner but Road Runner was too big and he got really scared!” Sam chimed in, bouncing. “So he held up these two signs: ‘Okay, wise guys, you always wanted me to catch him’ and ‘Now what do I do?’”

Henry was laughing by the end of it. It was surreal that Road Runner had finally been caught but he hadn’t really been caught. Not really. From the sounds of it, he could have just given Coyote the flick and bolted.

“I do wish I’d seen that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. A warm feeling spread through him at the moment he was sharing with his grandsons, sitting and laughing about cartoons that they all loved. It felt like he was back in 1958 and laughing with John over Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd and he’d say, ‘Be vewy, vewy quiet! I’m hunting wabbits!’ and John would laugh so hard that tears would stream down his face. It did hurt to realise that he was in 1992 and John was no longer that cheerful child but he had Sam and Dean now and he wouldn’t fail them like he failed John.

“I’m thirsty,” Dean complained. “Can you go get me a drink, Henry?”

“Your father told me not to leave you two alone,” Henry frowned.

“Dude, it’s just the vending machine,” Dean said. He rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change, which he gave to Henry. “Grab me a Coke, would you?”

Henry still didn’t think that this was such a good idea but if it was still within the motel and not too far then it couldn’t hurt, right?

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Henry left the room, shutting the door behind him, and then went to the motel lobby to get Dean his drink. He frowned at the unfamiliar change in his hand and then back at the machine. How was he supposed to do this?

“Need help?” a bored voice drawled. Henry turned to see a greasy-looking man with stringy blond hair – the receptionist – standing behind him.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Henry said gratefully. “My nephew wants a Coke and I am unfamiliar with this strange currency.”

“A foreigner, eh?” the man smirked. Henry supposed that that was technically true. “Here, lemme do that.”

The man slotted the appropriate coins into the machine and pressed a button to send the Coke falling into the bottom.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Henry said, stooping to pick up the can. He swept out of the lobby and back to the motel room but paused in the doorway. Something didn’t seem right.

“Sam? Dean?” he said. Nobody responded. His gut now twisting, Henry closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, stiff and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. “Boys? Where are you?”

He noticed that the window was open, which made him frown. That had been closed when he’d left, hadn’t it? Henry crossed over to the window and his stomach dropped right out of him. The salt line was broken!

“No!” he gasped. He whirled around. “Sam! Dean! Answer me!”

He still got no response. A light breeze wafted in through the window, rustling a piece of paper on the sofa. Henry frowned. That paper hadn’t been there before, had it? He slowly approached it and picked it up before unfolding it and reading it. The words printed in scratchy, childish handwriting made him drop Dean’s Coke.

_Henry,_

_Nice to see you again, old friend! I’ve been trying to meet up with you for ages – you know, have a little ‘1958 Massacre Buddies’ reunion – but for some reason, you just don’t seem to want to see me. So I decided that enough is enough._

_Let’s cut the crap, Henry. You have something that I want and I have something that you want. There’s an abandoned warehouse a little out of town. Meet me there and I’ll swap the brats for you and the key. Bring Johnny-boy or not, it’s your call, but if I don’t get to see your pretty face and that shiny key, the kids are history._

_Don’t keep me waiting._

The note wasn’t signed but there was no way Henry couldn’t know who it was.

“Abaddon!” he whispered. “No!” He scrunched the note up in his fist, let it drop onto the table and then turned around and kicked the sofa. What was he supposed to tell John? His son had trusted him and he’d let him down!

Henry dropped onto the sofa, holding his head in his hands. He knew that Abaddon and his grandsons would be long gone. All he could do now was to wait for the minutes to tick by and await John’s return, where he would most likely be treated to a lecture that he so richly deserved. He almost wished that John would come back now. Better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

As though the heavens were granting his wish, the doorknob rattled and John pushed his way into the room with several bags of food.

“Henry!” he said with a smile that just made Henry feel even worse. “Where are the boys?”

Henry wordlessly held out the crinkled note. John took it, his smile fading, and with each line, his face grew angrier and angrier.

“What the hell?” he exploded. “How the hell did that bitch get in?”

Henry pointed at the broken salt line at the window.

“I went to get Dean a drink,” he said miserably. “I was only gone for two minutes –”

“I told you not to leave them alone!” John bellowed. “Two minutes was long enough for that bitch to get in here and kidnap my boys! How could you be so stupid, Henry? You knew she was after us!”

“I’m sorry, John!” Henry said. “I understand that I’ve lost your trust but we’ll get Sam and Dean back, even if I die trying!”

“Damn right we will,” John growled. “You got a plan, wise guy?”

Henry frowned.

“I think I do,” he said. He looked up at John. “I can slow Abaddon down for you. Can you do the rest?”

-ATGB-

“I’m going on a food run,” John announced. They were running low on food, Sam and Dean were always little brats when they were hungry and John’s new fake credit card was just itching to be used. Henry, who was watching Ren and Stimpy with Sam and Dean, just nodded.

As he started the Impala up, John reflected on the past few days. If someone had told him a few days ago that his long-gone father would drop in on him and he wouldn’t hate him and would actually like him again, John would have shot them with rock salt. But now, even though he didn’t see Henry as a father, he was genuinely fond of the man and was actually ecstatic that he would get to know his father all over again, even if it hadn’t been that long to Henry.

He was also surprised to find that he trusted Henry with his boys. Normally it took at least a few weeks before he would even trust someone to stay in the same room as Sam and Dean while he went away for even a minute but Henry…Henry was different. Maybe it was because he _hadn’t_ changed since that night, and John had trusted his father implicitly before his disappearance. Maybe his old instincts were shining through. Whatever the reason, John was confident that he could trust his father to watch over Sam and Dean while he made a food run to fill their stomachs.

Once at the supermarket John easily fell into the mindless routine of shopping, throwing random items into his cart and then taking them up to the counter to pay once he was done. The whole process took about twenty minutes and then he had to heave his bags out to the Impala, dump them in the back and drive the five minute journey back to the motel. He lugged the bags out of the car and up to their motel room.

“Henry!” he said with a smile as he entered the room and dumped the bags of food. Henry’s miserable expression, along with the deafening silence in the room, instantly put him on guard. “Where are the boys?”

In response, Henry held out a small note. John took it and his blood ran cold when he read the words that had been scrawled in Dean’s untidy handwriting. How the hell had the bitch gotten in? And why was the note written in Dean’s writing? John could think of two reasons: either he was threatened to or he hadn’t been himself while writing it. Neither option appealed to him.

“What the hell?” John yelled angrily, crushing the note in his rage. “How the hell did that bitch get in?”

Henry pointed at the window. John was livid when he saw that the salt line there had been broken somehow. Maybe one of his sons had accidentally broken it and that was all that Abaddon would have needed to get in.

“I went to get Dean a drink,” Henry said glumly. “I was only gone for two minutes –”

He’d left the boys alone? John had trusted him!

“I told you not to leave them alone!” John raged. “Two minutes was long enough for that bitch to get in here and kidnap my boys! How could you be so stupid, Henry? You knew she was after us!”

Of all the stupid things to do! Rationally, John knew that Henry being with them wouldn’t have made a difference – Abaddon would have probably killed him or kidnapped him too. But he was furious and he had to take it out on someone!

“I’m sorry, John!” Henry said fervently. “I understand that I’ve lost your trust –” Damn right he had! “– but we’ll get Sam and Dean back, even if I die trying!”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. No matter how pissed John was at Henry, the guy was _not_ dying!

“Damn right we will,” John spat. “You got a plan, wise guy?” Henry got them into this mess, he could get them out!

“I think I do,” Henry said slowly. “I can slow Abaddon down for you. Can you do the rest?”

John’s fingers closed around his gun.

“You bet,” he declared. “How are we doing this?”

“You can’t kill her,” Henry said thoughtfully. “But you can incapacitate her so badly that she will not be able to function.”

“Cutting her into tiny bits it is, then,” John decided. “Come on. Let’s roll. And Henry?” Henry looked at him. “When we get my sons back, I’m going to kill you.”

Henry grimaced but, to his credit, didn’t protest. John spared the note in his fist one last glance before shredding it into tiny pieces. Then, making sure that the box was in his pocket, he followed Henry out of the room.

Abaddon didn’t know what was coming for her.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just sit tight, kiddos,” she said. “The cavalry should be here soon. Otherwise, your lifespans just dropped very dramatically.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> This chapter is dark. No, I don’t get off on Sam and Dean being tortured (though them being tied up for the umpteenth time in the show never ceases to thrill me) but you can’t spell Abaddon without torture. Wait, that’s not right…

“How long does it take to get a Coke?” Dean complained a minute after Henry had left to get his drink. “I would’ve been back by now!”

“Then why didn’t you go and get it yourself?” Sam said, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snapped. “That’s why.”

Sam just smirked. Dean slumped in his seat, bored out of his brain. He’d already seen this episode of Ren and Stimpy! He already knew everything that was going to happen! What he really wanted was to go for a walk but he knew that Henry would never allow that. And to be honest, he agreed with his time-travelling grandfather. With an evil demonic bitch like Abaddon out there, Dean preferred to stay in the motel room. He wasn’t a chicken – call him that and he’d punch you! – but being inside the salted room made him feel a lot better.

A small tapping sound caught his attention. Frowning, Dean crossed over to the window to take a look outside. Nothing was there.

“Whatever,” Dean mumbled. “Look at yourself, Dean. Scared of the wind! What would Dad say?”

John had been pretty weird ever since Henry had landed in their room. He had been calmer, smiled more and even acted like a dad and tucked them in that night rather than snapping at them to get to bed and ignoring them for the rest of the night. Dean liked it. It was nice to have a father who actually acted like a father.

Crap, there he was again with his ‘chick flick’ moment. Rolling his eyes, Dean turned away from the windowsill, not noticing that he had accidentally brushed against the salt line. This proved to be a fatal mistake. Behind him, the window slowly slid open and Dean frowned and turned back to it to fix it. What the hell?

That was when he noticed the black smoke rolling around outside. Crap! It was a demon! Was it Abaddon? Dean looked down to check that the salt line was still intact and was horrified to see that it was broken. He had to fix it! But before he could fix it, the demon smoke streamed into the room and hovered above him. Dean opened his mouth to scream, to warn Sam to get away, but the smoke took this opportunity to dive at him and shove itself down his throat. Dean choked, trying to cough the smoke up, but it just forced itself all the way into his mouth and down his throat. The further it got, the more and more disconnected Dean felt from his body and, in terror, he tried to turn and tell Sam to run but found that he could no longer control his body. He tried to move his arm. Nothing happened. He tried to take a step. Still nothing. He couldn’t control anything he did anymore!

 _‘Help!’_ he tried to scream. _‘Help me! Someone, anyone!’_

 _‘Dean!’_ a female voice rang in his head. Dean recognised it as the redheaded woman’s who had burst into their room from the closet after Henry had – Abaddon, her name was. _‘Such a pleasure to finally meet you properly!’_

 _‘Get out of me!’_ Dean bellowed. A chuckling resonated inside his mind and Dean, who was staring into the glass of the window, would have recoiled if he had control of his body at the pitch black eyes that stared back at him. His eyes blinked against his will and the black faded to his usual green.

“Dean, close the window! I’m cold!” Sam complained. Abaddon turned to Sam, Dean screaming and shouting the whole time.

 _‘Leave him alone! You have me, leave my brother alone!’_ he pleaded.

 _‘Sorry, doll, but you two brats are a package deal,’_ Abaddon purred. _‘You know, two for the price of one and all that crap. The hostage exchange kinda loses its impact if Henry and Johnny already have one of you, especially the little puppy.’_

“Hey Sam, wanna go for a quick walk?” Abaddon said. Sam frowned at her.

“But Dad and Uncle Henry said that we have to stay here,” he said.

 _‘Good boy, Sammy! Don’t go with her!’_ Dean yelled.

“We won’t go far,” Abaddon wheedled. “Just outside the room. C’mon, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, Dean,” Sam said immediately. Dean let out a wail, Abaddon’s laughter ringing in his mental ears. “But I don’t wanna get in trouble. You know how mad Dad gets!”

“Here, I’ll write them a note,” Abaddon offered. “Then they won’t have to worry.” She grabbed a piece of motel stationary and a pen and scribbled out a ransom note before dropping it onto the sofa. Before she could do anything, Sam snatched it up to read – probably making sure that his ass was covered in case they got in trouble. His face drained of colour.

“Y-You’re not Dean!” he stammered. Dean felt his eyes start to sting and knew that Abaddon had flashed her black demon eyes.

“Bingo, buddy boy,” the demon drawled.

 _‘Run, Sam! Get outside! She can’t cross the salt!’_ Dean shouted at the top of his mental lungs.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam began to back away. “Get out of my brother! Dean! Are you in there?”

“Dean’s not home right now,” Abaddon cackled. “C’mon, you little brat. I need you and your brother to get that damn key.”

“Key?” Sam blinked. Abaddon’s hand shot out and grabbed him around the upper arm tightly, making him let out a cry of pain.

 _‘SAMMY!’_ Dean roared.

“Come on. Now,” Abaddon ordered. Terrified, Sam allowed her to drag him across the room and to the window with the broken salt line. “Climb out. And don’t try to run off. I’ve got your brother, remember? Try anything funny and Dean will know exactly why Hell is called Hell.”

His face white as snow, Sam nodded and let Abaddon help him out of the window and push him down onto the ground outside. She nimbly slid out after him, just in time to hear the motel room door open.

“Sam? Dean?” Henry called. Abaddon immediately grabbed Sam and pulled him close to her, one hand gripping his throat tightly and her other hand clamped tightly over his mouth. “Boys? Where are you?”

Abaddon heard Henry cross over to check out the broken salt line and she ducked out of sight, pulling Sam with her. The stupid brat was whimpering and he was honestly getting on her every nerve!

 _‘Let him go! What did he ever do to you?’_ Dean cried.

 _‘Oh, shut up! Jesus, I hate kids. So whiny and moany and ‘wa, wa, wa!’_ Abaddon growled.

“Move,” she hissed to Sam once Henry had moved away from the window. She frogmarched him away from the room and around to the back of the motel, where she’d left Josie’s body dumped in a broken heap. Gone were the bloody evening gown and high heels – those things had been a nightmare to walk in! Now, Josie was clad in black jeans and combat boots, a dark red T-shirt and a black leather jacket.

 _‘No! You’re not taking Sammy! I won’t let you!’_ Dean burst out. Abaddon stumbled as his consciousness suddenly began to fight against hers and Dean, now in control, fell to his knees and let go of Sam.

“Sammy…can’t fight…long…” he groaned, clutching his head. Abaddon was screaming and battering his will and Dean knew that she’d wrest control back in moments. “Run…go tell…Dad an’…Henry!”

Sam remained frozen on the spot.

“RUN!” Having used up the last of his will, Dean fell easily to Abaddon’s final attack and she straightened up, now back in control. Sam was already bolting back to the motel room but it was simple for Abaddon to just hold out her hand and freeze him in place.

 _‘Oh, Sammy’s going to pay for that, Dean,’_ Abaddon hissed to Dean, all traces of playfulness gone. _‘And you as well. I’m going to make you watch your brother in unimaginable pain!’_

 _‘No!’_ Dean begged. _‘Please! I’ll do anything!’_

 _‘Trying to kick me out of your skull isn’t the best way to go about making me happy,’_ Abaddon snarled. _‘No, Dean, you have to learn your lesson. Abaddon takes what she wants. She doesn’t need snotnosed brats like you getting in her way.’_

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Abaddon tutted, strolling over to the terrified boy. “I thought we were having such a good time together! What do you say we take the party somewhere else?”

Abaddon gripped Sam by the hair and dragged him back to Josie’s body, once again gagging him with her hand when he tried to scream for help. She bent down to grab Josie’s wrist, letting go of Sam’s mouth, and then she concentrated and vanished, leaving behind a faint whiff of sulfur.

-ATGB-

They reappeared in an abandoned warehouse and Abaddon let go of Sam, who immediately backed away as far as possible.

“That’s not going to help you, you little idiot,” Abaddon laughed. “You’re mine, Sammy. Now it’s all up to dear Grandpa Henry. If he plays ball and does what I say then you and Dean can go home and everything can be flowers and rainbows again. But if he doesn’t…” Abaddon took out Dean’s switchblade. Sam gulped and cowered away from her but she simply strode over and grabbed his left arm, pushing his sleeve up. “Then you’re going to know pain like you’ve never known before.”

She placed the point of the blade in the middle of Sam’s forearm and dragged it down. Sam cried out and fell to his knees as she left a red line down his forearm, which immediately began to bleed. Abaddon hummed as she carved out a symbol on Sam’s forearm: what looked like two trapeziums joined together with a cross through the middle of them and a circle on the top of them.

Throughout her task, Abaddon relished in the whimpering, pained sobs that Sam was making as she dug the knife deeper and deeper into his flesh. When she finally elicited a strangled cry from the boy she let a wide smile spread across her face, knowing that it would unnerve him to see such a smile on his brother’s face. Throughout it all, Dean howled and raged and fought against her with everything he had but Abaddon amusedly flicked him away every time. She was just too powerful!

“There,” Abaddon declared once she was done. “You’re mine now, Sammy. You belong to me. That symbol says so And don’t you forget that.”

She trailed a small finger through the blood and, with a smirk at a sobbing Sam, raised it to her mouth and licked the blood off, allowing the taste of iron to permeate her mouth.

 _‘Leave Sammy alone! LEAVE HIM ALONE!’_ Dean ranted. _‘You’re sick!’_

 _‘Thanks, Deanie-weenie,’_ Abaddon said brightly. _‘You flatter me.’_

“Please! Stop it! Let me go! Let Dean go!” Sam pleaded, tears streaming down his face. Abaddon crouched down in front of Sam, her hand on his shoulder in what would have been a comforting gesture if she wasn’t a demonic psychopath.

“Oh, Sammy,” she cooed, scooping up his tears with her finger and licking them as she’d just done with his blood. “I feel so sorry for you. Dean doesn’t really love you, you know?”

“Y-You’re lying,” Sam sniffed. “Dean does love me!”

 _‘You tell her, Sammy!’_ Dean cheered.

 _‘Shh!’_ Abaddon shushed. _‘Hush, Deanie! You’ll miss the best part! The psychological torture is always the best!’_

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she sighed, patting Sam’s cheeks. “I’m sorry that you’ve been led to believe that. I’m in Dean’s head, remember? I know everything. He seems like the perfect, loving big brother but do you want to know the truth?”

Sam shook his head.

“Dean loathes you, Sammy. Sorry, _I_ loathe you. I’m Dean now, remember? And I can’t stand you. You’re just an unwanted burden that Dad dumps on me all the time! I never wanted to have to take care of you! Hell, I didn’t even want to haul you out of the fire that killed Mom! That was your fault, you know. That demon was in _your_ nursery. If it wasn’t for you, Mom would still be alive!”

Sam was still shaking his head, now fully crying.

“No…” he whispered.

“It’s true! All my life, all I’ve ever been told is ‘Take care of Sammy. Don’t let anything happen to Sammy. Who cares about you, Dean? It’s all about Sammy. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!’”

Abaddon punctuated each ‘Sammy’ with a hit across the face. Sam fell to the floor and Dean felt like he was going to throw up at the pure pleasure and delight that Abaddon was taking from this.

 _‘STOP IT!’_ Dean begged. _‘Please! I’m sorry I tried to fight back! I’ll do whatever you want! I won’t fight! I’ll let you do whatever you want to me! Just leave Sammy alone!’_

 _‘Don’t you get it, Deanie?’_ Abaddon laughed. _‘You_ are _doing what I want. There’s no greater pleasure in life than you having to watch me torture your baby brother when you can’t even do anything!’_

“Well, I’m tired of it!” Abaddon kicked Sam in the side and he screamed and curled into a ball. “I’m tired of having to be your bodyguard!” She stooped down and rolled Sam onto his back, deriving pleasure from his pathetic sobbing. “I’m tired of having no life of my own!” She straddled Sam, wrapping her hands around his throat. “I’m tired of you screwing _everything_ up for me!”

Abaddon began to strangle Sam, who choked and wheezed for breath. Dean howled and fought against Abaddon with everything he had but there was no chance of him catching her off-guard again.

“I’m…sorry…Dean…” Sam gasped. “Sorry…I’m…such a…screw-up…”

 _‘NO! SAMMY! STOP IT, YOU BITCH!’_ Dean burst out. To Abaddon’s surprise, Dean managed to start fighting back again and before she knew what was happening, her demon smoke was beginning to coalesce inside Dean’s mouth. The taste of sulfur and fire in his mouth, Dean managed to wrest enough control back to let go of Sam’s throat and roll off his little brother. Abaddon was unnerved. Hardly anybody had this kind of mental power!

 _‘Fine,’_ she thought. _‘I’ve had enough fun. And no way am I going to possess that whiny younger brat. He might actually give me emotions!’_

Abaddon whipped Dean’s head back and he let out a hoarse scream as she forced herself out of his throat and across the room to Josie’s body, where she streamed into the redhead’s mouth. Once she had established control over Josie’s corpse she sat up and strode over to Dean, who was slumped next to a crying Sam.

“Ugh, give me a break,” she muttered. She waved a hand to summon a long length of rope that had been lying in the corner of the warehouse and then she grabbed Sam by the hair and forced him to his feet. Dean let out a weak protest but Abaddon’s possession of him had obviously drained him too much.

“Quit your whining!” she snapped at Sam as she tied his hands behind his back roughly, making sure to squeeze the still-bleeding carved symbol on his injured arm and cause him as much pain as possible. To her relief, the brat shut up long enough for her to snap the rope and then begin winding the rest of the length around his arms tightly. Once that was done, she turned to Dean and hauled him into a standing position, where he swayed precariously. However, he was nowhere near as docile as his younger brother.

“Stop that, you little brat!” Abaddon growled at Dean as he tried to punch her but failed. He ignored her, instead kicking at her and actually hitting her in the leg. Not that it hurt her – Josie was just her meat suit and it would take more than a half-conscious twelve year old to hurt her. But it was annoying nonetheless.

“Alright, Deanie,” she snapped. “Here’s how it’s going to work.” She bent down to pick up Dean’s blade, grabbed Sam by the hair, pulled him over in front of Dean and thrust the blade under his chin. Sam let out a gasp and tried to shy away from it.

“Sammy!” Dean mumbled, trying to lunge at Abaddon. She simply dug the blade deeper into Sam’s throat, drawing out beads of dark red blood.

“Cooperate and I’ll leave the kid alone from now on,” Abaddon said. “Fight me and I will take everything I have out on Sammy. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Dean spat after a moment. Abaddon smiled tightly and removed the blade from Sam’s throat. Sam let out an audible gasp of relief.

“Glad we understand each other,” Abaddon said, spinning Dean around. She made sure to tie the knots around his wrists and arms even tighter than Sam’s bonds and then she dragged them both over to a wall and kicked their legs out from underneath them.

“Just sit tight, kiddos,” she said. “The cavalry should be here soon. Otherwise, your lifespans just dropped very dramatically.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know that,” Henry murmured, carving out the final details of the Devil’s Trap. “But you do that for family. I let you down twice already, John. I’m not letting you down a third time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I legit creeped myself out writing last chapter. Guess that’s what I get for writing it at 11.30 at night…

“Sam?” Dean whispered. Sam just stared at the floor, not giving Dean any sign that he’d heard him. “Sammy, talk to me. You’ve been zoning out for like an hour now.”

“Why?” Sam mumbled. Dean was glad that his little brother was finally talking! “I’m just a screw-up. All I ever do is make your life crap. I’m just a burden on you. It’s my fault that Mom died. That demon was in my room! It’s my fault!”

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean snapped. Sam flinched. “Are you really gonna listen to what some demon asshole said while shoved up in my head? None of that’s true! You’re not a screw-up, you’re not a burden and it’s not your fault that Mom died! It’s the demon’s fault! If I really hated you then would I really look after you?”

“Dad makes you,” Sam said glumly.

“Yeah, Dad makes me run out to the shop for snacks so you don’t have to eat mac ‘n’ cheese or Spaghetti-O’s for the fourth night in a row,” Dean said sarcastically. “Dad makes me take you to local playgrounds when you get bored even though I could get my ass kicked for not staying in the room. Dad makes me hug you and act all girly when you have a nightmare. Face it, Sammy. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not. If I really hated you then I’d tell you to sit down, shut up and do whatever I say.”

“You do that anyway, Dean,” Sam pointed out, though he was smiling softly. Dean took this as a sign that he’d finally managed to get through to Sam. Good thing too because this sappy, girly moment was making him feel sick. “You’re such a jerk!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be a bitch then,” Dean smirked back. Sam gasped.

“You said a really bad swear word!” he said. “Dad’s gonna kill you!”

“Not if he doesn’t find out,” Dean said conspiratorially. “It’s our little secret, isn’t it?”

Sam laughed and nodded.

“Aww, isn’t this touching?” Dean’s blood began to boil when Abaddon paused in front of them, smirking once again. “I think I might actually be sick and demons don’t get sick.”

Sam and Dean ignored her. The sudden sound of loud footsteps outside the warehouse made Sam and Dean whip their heads around to stare. Was that John and Henry?

 _‘Dammit, Dad!’_ Dean thought. _‘You and Henry shouldn’t’ve come!’_ But at the same time, he was glad that they had. It meant that Sam could get out of this situation, even though Dean wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Abaddon would just let them go. The bad guys never did.

“Showtime,” Abaddon said, smiling triumphantly. She produced two pieces of cloth from her jacket before grabbing Sam’s face roughly and tying one piece tightly around his mouth, gagging him.

“What the hell? What’re we gonna tell them? Abaddon’s Secret Diary, Entry Number Six?” Dean protested.

“Just call it a kink for the poor kids trying desperately to call to the big brave parent,” Abaddon shrugged, pulling the second piece of cloth around Dean’s mouth and tying it at the back of his head. “Really emphasises the helplessness, you know. And it makes you look more pathetic, which will just make John and Henry angrier and me happier. Little life lesson, Deanie: the angrier someone is, the more mistakes they’ll make. Consider it a gift from me to make up for the fact that I’m going to brutally kill you and your brother and make Henry and John watch.”

Dean felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the demon just confirmed what he already knew: they weren’t going to make it out of this. Abaddon waved her hands. Dean felt himself being dragged to his feet. Next to him, Sam was also being hauled up.

“C’mon, kiddies. Let’s go play ball.”

Dean spat the foulest curse he could muster at Abaddon, though it was lost in the gag. The demon strode to the centre of the room, Sam and Dean being pulled with her, and then she stopped and Dean felt himself being frozen in place. He tried to send a reassuring look to Sam, who was once again looking terrified.

The warehouse doors were pushed open and then Henry was pushed inside, his hands handcuffed behind his back. Dean groaned into his gag. What the hell was going on? What were they hoping to achieve by tying Henry up? Was John really giving Henry to this bitch?

“Henry! So glad you decided to make it!” Abaddon called cheerfully. Henry glared at her. Behind him was John, who had a gun in his hand and an absolutely pissed expression on his face as he took in his bound and gagged sons. In that moment, Dean was very glad not to be the focus of that glare.

“Get the hell away from my sons,” John spat.

-ATGB-

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” John said to Henry on their way to the warehouse. Squinting at a bullet, Henry was carefully carving a tiny Devil’s Trap into the tip of it. It was quite ingenious and John wished that he’d thought of it before. It would’ve saved him a hell of a lot of hassle on previous cases.

“I’m positive,” Henry said firmly. “This will work. It will slow Abaddon down and then you can take care of her.”

“You sure you want to do this, Henry?” John said. He wasn’t really giving Henry a choice – his father would do this whether he liked it or not – but he preferred it if Henry was willing. And besides, even though he tried to deny it, he actually cared about Henry and didn’t want him to die or anything. “This means you’ve gotta get close. And close can get ugly.”

“I know that,” Henry murmured, carving out the final details of the Devil’s Trap. “But you do that for family. I let you down twice already, John. I’m not letting you down a third time.”

John nodded. He reached out for Henry, paused for a moment and then clapped a hand on his shoulder. Henry looked startled.

“For what it’s worth, thanks for trying to make things right,” John said. “Nice to know that you didn’t run out on us. You’re alright, Hen – Dad.”

A smile started to spread across Henry’s face and he leaned back in his seat with a satisfied look.

“I suppose I shouldn’t get used to that,” he said. “Seeing as how I’m now your half-brother.”

“It needed to be said,” was all John said. Henry was saved the necessity of replying by the warehouse appearing ahead of them. John’s stomach started to twist nervously. Truth be told, he was terrified of what he’d find inside. Were Sam and Dean alright? Had that bitch hurt them? Well, that was a stupid question. Of course she’d hurt them – she was a demon. But for her own good, she’d better not have hurt them too bad or she was going to suffer John’s full wrath crashing down on her. As it was, he already had a thousand different punishments for her rolling around in his head! What he was going to do to her once Henry had immobilised was merciful compared to what he wanted to do!

“Right, let’s do this,” John said after parking and killing the engine. The two of them got out of the car and then Henry turned around and let John enclose his wrists with handcuffs that he didn’t do up. Maybe, just maybe, this small detail would make Henry look helpless and allow him to catch Abaddon off-guard and get away without getting killed. “You remember the plan?”

“Get close to Abaddon and shoot her with the bullet,” Henry recited. “You’ll do the rest.”

“Good.” John fingered the box and the deck of playing cards in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

The two of them walked up to the warehouse, making sure that they would be heard by anybody inside. John pushed the heavy doors open and then, immediately slipping into character, took out his gun and pushed Henry into the warehouse roughly. His eyes were immediately drawn to Abaddon, who was standing in the middle of the place with a satisfied smirk on her face. On either side of her were Sam and Dean, both bound tightly and gagged. John felt his blood boil when he saw the cuts and wounds on Sam’s face and the bruises around his throat – bruises that were the size of a child’s hand. John nearly shot Abaddon then and there. She’d _possessed_ Dean? She’d taken over his boy and made him beat up Sammy? She was going to pay!

“Henry! So glad you decided to make it!” Abaddon sang. Henry just shot her a glare and John sent the most poisonous, acid-filled look he could muster at the demon.

“Get the hell away from my sons,” he spat venomously. Sam and Dean looked at him with a mixture of relief, happiness and fear and he felt like punching Abaddon’s head in simply for gagging them. He knew that it was a psychological trick, intended to make him even angrier for having made his boys even more helpless and goad him into making mistakes, and so he forced himself to take deep breaths and not do anything rash.

“Hello, John,” Abaddon smiled. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”

“I don’t need an introduction,” John growled. “I know you’re a disgusting piece of filth that should be put down.”

“Ouch,” Abaddon pouted. “I try to be polite and where does it get me?”

“Cut the crap, Abaddon,” John snapped. “I’ll send Henry over with the box. You send my boys over to me. Got it?”

He held out the box to Abaddon and then went to put it into Henry’s pocket. However, at the last moment, he performed a quick sleight-of-hand and slipped the box into his own pocket while depositing the deck of cards into Henry’s jacket.

“My only interest is Henry and the key!” Abaddon said innocently. “You and your sons are free to go.”

 _‘Yeah, right,’_ John thought. He shoved Henry with his gun roughly, grimacing mentally.

“Get moving, Henry,” he snapped. “I’m not walking out of here without my boys and that means that you end up over there.”

Henry nodded, squared his shoulders and strode towards Abaddon. At the same time, the demon waved her hands and Sam and Dean stumbled and began to run over to John. They shot Henry a fleeting look but he stared ahead resolutely. John knew that he was trying to avoid any distractions so that he could shoot Abaddon without getting iced himself. When Sam and Dean made it over to him, John immediately pulled their gags off.

“Dad!” Sam gasped as John took out his pocket knife and hacked at his younger son’s bonds. As soon as Sam was free, he threw his arms around John and hugged him tightly. John allowed this for a moment, returning the hug just as tightly, before gently pushing Sam away and cutting Dean free.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Dean murmured. “I should’ve fought harder, not let her take Sammy.”

John’s heart sank. Was Dean’s self-esteem really that low that he blamed himself for being possessed?

“Dean. Son, look at me,” he said. Dean reluctantly met his eyes. “It’s not your fault. Not many people can fight off a demon and no one can fight one that sets up shop in their head. Okay?”

John then pulled Dean in for a brief hug. He felt Dean freeze in surprise before hesitantly reciprocating and in that instant he swore to hug Sam and Dean more. Had he really been that crappy a father? This whole adventure had opened his eyes to just how much he loved Sam and Dean and wanted to keep them safe and that wasn’t going to happen if he dragged them around the country and kept them locked up in motel rooms!

“Come on, boys,” John said. He guided Sam and Dean towards the warehouse doors but, as he’d predicted, Abaddon waved her hand to shut and lock them tightly. He set his jaw and turned around. “Hey, we had a deal, you bitch!”

“Surprise!” Abaddon chuckled. “I lied.” She turned to Henry but John had played his part well; his distraction had been enough for Henry to pull out the gun with the carved bullet, thrust it under Abaddon’s chin and fire. Her head jerked back, lighting up as it did so, and blood splattered under her chin and down her neck.

 _‘Bullseye,’_ John thought in satisfaction.

“Dad! That won’t kill her!” Dean hissed.

“Just trust us, Dean,” John murmured. “We’ve got a plan.” He began to edge around, to loop behind Abaddon, pulling out his machete as he did so.

“Woo! What a blast!” the demon crowed. “Now give me the box.” She reached into Henry’s pocket and pulled out the pack of cards. She examined it for a moment before hurling it at the ground and screaming, “WHERE IS IT?” Thunder crackled overhead.

‘Keep her distracted!’ John mouthed at Henry. Just because Abaddon was immobilised (not that she knew it yet) didn’t mean that she wasn’t still a dangerous opponent. The element of surprise was the only advantage they still had on their side.

“Okay,” Abaddon spat. “We can do this the hard way.” She grabbed Henry by the throat, pulled him in close and then, to John’s disgust, tried to breathe some of her demonic smoke into his mouth. However, it met with an invisible barrier halfway there and Henry took the chance to wrench himself out of Abaddon’s grip and back away out of her reach. Abaddon attempted to follow him but found that she was glued to the spot.

“WHY AM I STUCK?” she bellowed. John’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk.

“Surprise,” Henry smirked. “We also lied.”

John could have high-fived his father then and there.

“Well, you still didn’t kill me,” Abaddon said triumphantly. John took this as his cue.

“No, but you’ll wish we did.” He swung, his machete biting into Abaddon’s neck. It easily sliced through the muscles, tendons and bones and Abaddon’s head went rolling, coming to rest a few feet away. Sam looked like he was going to throw up and even Dean looked a little nauseous. “That Devil’s Trap will keep you from smoking out and we’re gonna cut you up and bury you six feet under. You may not be dead but you’ll wish you were, you bitch.” He crouched down next to Abaddon’s head to whisper, “That’s what you get for touching my boys.”

“You did it,” Henry said in disbelief, staring at Abaddon’s head. He looked up at John and grinned widely. “You did it!”

“ _We_ did it,” John corrected with a smirk. Spontaneously, he stepped forward and pulled Henry into a rough embrace, slapping his back proudly. Henry paused and then returned the hug tightly. John heard footsteps and then felt two small arms around his legs as Sam joined in the family hug. John looked around at Dean, who immediately shook his head.

“Nuh uh,” he said. “I’m not getting involved in any chick flick moments.”

“Get over here now, Dean,” John ordered. When Dean was close enough, he reached out and pulled his startled son into the family hug.

It may have been one of the most intense challenges of John’s life but Abaddon was as good as dead, he’d learned a few things along the way and he had his father back. Three generations of Winchesters had come together and they had succeeded epically.

That was what Abaddon got for messing with a Winchester!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Son of a bitch,” he finally murmured.
> 
> “Whoa…” Sam whispered. Even Dean seemed in awe of the stuff. Henry stared around curiously, as though he couldn’t take in enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

“Alright, this is it.” John pulled over outside an ancient, weathered, two-storey bunker built on a snowy hill. In the side of the bank was a door built into a brick wall and this appeared to be the only way in, just as Larry had said.

“Whoa!” Sam gasped as they got out of the car, his breath misting in the chilly air. “That’s so cool!”

“It’s so ugly,” Dean said, crossing his arms. John knew that he still wasn’t normal after the whole ‘being possessed by Abaddon’ thing but he also knew that Dean would never willingly talk about it and had decided that his son could have a little while longer of stubbornness before John would make him talk.

John also knew that Sam wasn’t alright either. After all, the poor boy had had a demon wearing his brother’s skin telling him that he was worthless and a burden and it had taken John and Dean a long talk and a tight family hug (and by God, John was growing sentimental) to make him see that Dean didn’t hate him and loved him very much. John also growled whenever he saw the symbol that Abaddon had carved into his forearm, which Henry had informed them was the crest of the Knights of Hell. The carving had been deep enough that John had had to stitch it up and it was going to scar, leaving a permanent reminder of what the eight year old had been through.

“When’s the last time anyone was in that dump?” Dean added, wrinkling his nose.

“About forty years ago, give or take,” John answered. Dean made a face. “Henry, will you do the honours?”

Henry accepted the proffered box and opened it to reveal a silver key with the Men of Letters inscription on the top. They walked down the concrete stairs to the door and then Henry fitted the key into the keyhole, turned it and pushed the door open. The inside of the building was dark, so John sent Dean to get flashlights and they slowly made their way inside, shining their lights around. The beams travelled across a whole bunch of olden, antique, 1950’s electrical equipment downstairs that left John speechless.

“Son of a bitch,” he finally murmured.

“Whoa…” Sam whispered. Even Dean seemed in awe of the stuff. Henry stared around curiously, as though he couldn’t take in enough.

“I’ve never been here before,” he commented. “This must have been the location they were going to take me and Josie to after our initiation.” He suppressed the brief pang of sadness at the thought of his friend, who he sincerely hoped had died at some point before they cut Abaddon up and buried her near the warehouse.

“Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard…” John listed, his flashlight lingering on each piece of equipment as he slowly made his way down the stairs with Sam. “Damn, this must have been their nerve centre before they were all killed.”

“This was the Men of Letters main base,” Henry said quietly, remaining upstairs on the ‘balcony’ with Dean. “This must have been how we gave all of the appropriate information to the appropriate hunters.”

“And this place really is the safest place on the planet?” John said. “Larry was telling the truth?”

“As far as I know,” Henry confirmed. “The elders often spoke about our main base and its security. It’s warded against any creatures and evil on the planet and is impenetrable without the key.”

“Like Larry said,” Dean remembered.

“So I could raise Sam and Dean here? Give them a normal life? And they’d be safe?” John said. Sam and Dean’s heads whipped around.

“You’re going to let us stay and go to school? We’re going to have a home?” Sam breathed hopefully.

“I’ve been thinking about it, Sammy.” John clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Henry’s right. My first priority should’ve been you and Dean, not hunting. If it’s not too late, I’m going to make it right. I’m still going to hunt and you’re still gonna learn how to protect yourselves but we’re going to settle down and have a home.”

“I think this would be the perfect place,” Henry confirmed with a small smile. Sam threw his arms around John, who patted him on the back before gently breaking free.

“Hey, look!” Dean pointed at a table with a chess board, ashtray and dirty cups. “Halfway through coffee and chess and then they disappeared!”

“To respond to the alarm call that ended the Men of Letters,” Henry said quietly.

“Not quite,” John said. “You’re still alive. The Men of Letters aren’t dead yet.”

Henry smiled down at him before catching sight of a fuse box on the wall and striding over. He opened it and flipped a lever. The next minute, lamps began to fizzle and then turn on, bathing the entire room in light.

“Whoa!” Sam and Dean gasped. Sam ran over to the massive table in the middle of the room, which John dubbed the ‘command centre’. Printed on the table was a gigantic map of the world and Sam climbed up on a chair to get a better look, while Henry and Dean hurried down to join them.

“Son of a bitch,” John murmured for the second time since arriving. In the next room was a massively enormous room with long, polished wooden tables and rows upon rows upon rows of bookshelves absolutely packed to the brims with books.

“I can’t believe it…” Henry said quietly, joining John in the doorway to the next room. “I knew of the existence of our main base but I never knew that anything like this existed. Now I know just where we got all of our information…”

“Hey, everyone?” Dean said from where he and Sam were just behind John and Henry, also peering into the next room. “I think we found the Batcave!”

John snorted.

“Batcave it is, then,” he said. Yet again, he found himself thanking the heavens for dumping Henry in their motel room that night. He had his father, he had his sons and now he had a home! Maybe for the first time in a long time, he could allow himself to be happy.

After all, John knew, it was what Mary would have wanted.


End file.
